Without Her
by Lunar Ember
Summary: Akane remains between life and death, and Ranma realizes that he cannot protect her forever. In the midst of tragedy, his family and friends help salvage his spirit, and in the process, learn the age old technique of loving and letting go. (PART 9 UP)
1. When The Bough Breaks

Author's Notes: Tin Mandigma's Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction "Farewell to Innocence" inspired me to write this. If you've already read this beautiful piece of literature, then you'll realize that I've based the start of this story on the opening of "Farewell." But I assure you that this won't end that way! ^_~  
  
If ever there would be twists in the Ranma history, they would be minimal. So don't worry.  
  
Have fun and thank you for your time!  
  
"/ /" - present thoughts  
  
"// //" - memories, etc, etc.  
  
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi, but the story belongs to me. Any unauthorized copying, lending, or distribution without the author's consent is punishable by law. Violators shall be subjected to investigation by police agencies and to criminal prosecution. =^_~=  
  
~*~  
  
Lunar Ember Presents  
  
A Ranma ½ Fanfiction  
  
WITHOUT HER  
  
~*~  
  
PART 1: When The Bough Breaks  
  
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Tonight I can write the saddest lines.  
  
- Pablo Neruda  
  
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He was at her bedside, sitting on a metal chair, his head in his hands.  
  
There was nothing left for him to say, nothing left for him to do but to be with her in that sickeningly white hospital room.  
  
She lay there, hooked to machines that made her breathe, to machines that fed her, to machines that monitored her brain activity, to machines that measured the beating of her heart -  
  
It was as if she wasn't even there anymore.  
  
And it was all his fault.  
  
Refusing to look at her, he closed his eyes.  
  
It had again been one of those people who had wanted to take her away from him. But from all the men who had challenged him for the right to be called her betrothed, this one was different. There was nothing in his eyes but pure and uninhibited lust and desire. He was obsessed with her, and he did everything - everything - to own her.  
  
He fought him. And as battles usually go for one who has dedicated his life to the Art, he won.  
  
But the man never accepted defeat.  
  
If I cannot have her, then nobody else can, he had said.  
  
And it was then that all hell broke lose.  
  
A blast that could contend with the power of the hiryu shoten ha knocked him down and spiraled past him, towards her.  
  
He stood up, his own scream ringing loudly in his ears. He tried to run to her, but it was too late. The blast took her by the chest and threw her high up in the air. Seconds seemed to stretch into hours as her body formed a graceful arc against the explosion of afternoon colors, her arms reaching out to the sky as they slowly, silently brushed the heavens that moved above her.  
  
//Catch me. . .//  
  
The sight of her in flight was almost painfully beautiful to behold, if not only for the reality of the cold stone that slammed against her frame when she fell.  
  
The scream echoed in his ears and it went on unabated, vibrating into the very core of his being. He could see nothing but red, red that oozed out from underneath her, accusing red that melted in his vision; the madness and the pain as he lashed out, his fists heavy with anger and hatred as it connected again and again to the man's face, red oozing down his arms. The scream went on and on until he realized that it wasn't just him anymore, but the man who lay pinned beneath him, flailing like a pig being slaughtered. But the scream never stopped even if the man had already stopped struggling, even if he had felt heavy hands pull him up to his feet, even if he had scampered to her and held her and cried and cried . . . gods Akane I am so sorry -  
  
The door opened with a creak.  
  
"Ranma. . .?"  
  
He didn't give any indication that he heard her. He felt a cold blast of hallway air-conditioning as the door opened wider. There was the shuffling sound of footsteps and muted whispers.  
  
He couldn't care less.  
  
"Oh Akane, my baby what happened to you?" Soun threw himself at the silent figure that lay on the bed, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Speak to me, Akane. It's me, your daddy!"  
  
The sounds of his sobs hurt him more than a thousand punches.  
  
"Ranma-kun?"  
  
He had almost flinched at the feel of her fingers on his shoulder, but he stayed there, his head in his hands, silent and immobile.  
  
"Ranma-kun," Kasumi's voice was as gentle as ever, if not only for the sound of a sob that escaped her lips. "Ranma-kun, Ryouga-kun told us everything."  
  
"He did," Nabiki's sneakers came into view. "And we don't blame you for anything. I'm sure Akane wouldn't blame you either."  
  
The scream still went on echoing in his ears, and it was kind of unusual to hear his own voice in subdued conversation.  
  
"It's - it's my fault," he whispered.  
  
"No it's not."  
  
He felt two hands on his shoulder pushing him upright and he was face to face with the Tendo middle-child.  
  
"It's not your fault, Ranma. It's that bastard Hiro's."  
  
He felt so weak, so weak, that he didn't even have the power to avoid Nabiki's piercing gaze.  
  
"And where is Hiro now?"  
  
"He's dead."  
  
There was a cold finality in the way she said it; there was rage and satisfaction hidden underneath the dangerous silkiness of her voice.  
  
She released him, and he slumped back to his seat.  
  
"He's dead," she repeated. "You did well, Ranma-kun."  
  
Painfully, Ranma raised his head and gazed at his fiancée.  
  
He could barely make her out of the tubes connected to her body. Her skin was but a shade darker than her white bedcovers and the strands of blue- black hair that peeked from underneath all the bandages were dull and limp. Dark circles under her closed eyes seemed to make her look even paler, and the lips that formed around the respirator have lost their color.  
  
//For you, Akane. . .//  
  
Hiro was dead. The man who did all this to her was dead. Ranma stared at his hands. He had killed a man, and he could never ever undo what had been done and he had no plans of doing so. He killed a man for her sake and he would do it all over again if it came to that point. He felt no remorse or regret, for if there ever was any need for repentance, it has been long washed away by searing waves of anger and by the bittersweet satisfaction of a vengeance completed.  
  
He had hurt Akane. He deserved it.  
  
But as he gazed at his fiancée, he knew that it still was not enough.  
  
Genma, who had been quiet the whole time, approached his son and placed a large hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Ranma you did all that you can do." His grip tightened. "You've avenged her."  
  
The young man lowered his eyes, his hands falling clumsily on his lap.  
  
"Avenged her, yes. But there wouldn't be any need for that if I'd managed to protect her in the first place."  
  
All fell silent, save for Soun who went on sobbing.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Without meeting anybody's gaze, Ranma stood up and left the room.  
  
* * *  
  
Shampoo jumped over the wall of the Tendo residence and silently landed on the garden.  
  
"Nihao! Shampoo deliver dinner of too good chow mien for - eh?"  
  
The house was dark and empty. The sound of koi splashing in the pond echoed loudly against the chirping of crickets.  
  
"Aiyah. . . where everybody?"  
  
She entered the house, carrying her soft-shod shoes in one hand and the chow mien in the other. She set the food on the dining table and explored the place.  
  
"Ranma? Violent tomboy? Where all of you?"  
  
Even the rooms on the second floor were empty. Ranma's room. Soun's room. Kasumi's. Nabiki's. Aka -  
  
The silhouette of a man sitting on the bed stirred as she opened the door. Shampoo jumped back to the hallway with her free hand raised on ready.  
  
"Who you?"  
  
The man made no move to acknowledge her presence. The evening breeze blew, making the white curtains framing the open window flutter. Shadow and moonlight moved on his tear-stained face.  
  
Shampoo relaxed her stance. "Oh. Is violent tomboy's pet pig."  
  
"Will you stop calling Akane-san a violent tomboy." He rubbed at his eyes. "And I got a name, you know."  
  
"P-chan?"  
  
His eyes flashed, and Shampoo realized that this was not a good time for dumb games.  
  
"Sorry. Is Hibiki Ryouga, is not?"  
  
Ryouga shrugged his shoulders and looked away.  
  
Shampoo furrowed her eyebrows. First, an empty house. Now, the eternally lost boy alone in Akane's room. What was going on?  
  
"Ryouga," she said, the name slurring with her Chinese accent. "You been crying. Shampoo no understand what is happening. Ryouga tell Shampoo?"  
  
He looked at her thoughtfully then ruefully chuckled.  
  
"As if you could do anything. You'd probably just mess things up again."  
  
She threw her shoes at him, more out of irritation than out of the will to hurt.  
  
"You dare insult Shampoo?"  
  
The shoes hit him hard on the arm but he did not budge. Ryouga sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.  
  
"No, no it's not that. It's just - Akane-san. . ." his voice broke and fresh tears fell from his eyes.  
  
"What about vio - Akane?" She had been trying to call her by her first name for some time now, but she never really got used to it; enemies of the tribe and insolent outsiders did not deserve a first name.  
  
Ryouga looked up at her. He was openly sobbing now, and the tears rolled freely down his cheeks.  
  
"She. . . she got caught in the crossfire. . . I came too late. . . didn't even get the chance to save her. . ." He shook his head fiercely and pounded his knee with his fist. "I didn't even get to do a goddamn thing!"  
  
Shampoo stared at him, swallowing everything that he was saying. Does that mean that - could it be?  
  
"Akane be dead then."  
  
She didn't know what hit her; she didn't even have the time to block it and before she knew it she was pinned to the wall by a seething Ryouga.  
  
"I know how much you want her dead, but don't ever make the mistake of saying it to my face again."  
  
She stood there, frozen by the heat of his stare. Shampoo sharply breathed in. She had almost forgotten that this was the only man who could contend with the strength and speed of Saotome Ranma. He was not to be reckoned with.  
  
"Shampoo apologize," she found herself saying. "No mean to be rude."  
  
Ryouga blinked at her as if snapping back to his senses. He let her go, stepping away with a jerk.  
  
"S-Sorry. I was just. . . didn't mean to. . . I'm sorry." He turned away from her, and in the shadows she could see his hair dancing in the breeze.  
  
"Ill wind."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Ill wind." She repeated, stepping up at his side. "Bad omen."  
  
He chuckled sarcastically, sitting back on the bed. "I don't need omens anymore when the worst has already happened."  
  
Shampoo felt genuine sympathy for the young man. Carefully, she sat down beside him.  
  
"Tell Shampoo? Please?"  
  
After a long moment of silence, Ryouga told her everything.  
  
A maniac named Hiro had kidnapped Akane early that morning. Before anybody knew what exactly was going on, Ranma was already in hot pursuit as the man sped away in a car. Ryouga had trailed behind him, trying to keep up, but he lost him ten minutes into the chase. After an hour or so, he saw an explosion on one of the floors of a rundown building in the outskirts of Nerima. By the time he got there, Ranma was already on top of Hiro, punching a man who was already dead.  
  
Shampoo felt the bedcovers scrunch up in her fist. She had no qualms about killing - in fact she had killed a few outsiders who had dared challenge the tribe. Bloodshed was a part of an amazon's culture. She had been so closely acquainted with death that she had learned not to fear it.  
  
But to find out that Ranma had gone over the edge. . .  
  
Shampoo felt her chest grow tighter. Hiro was human unlike Saffron who could reincarnate again the very next day after his defeat. This was what bothered Shampoo the most. In spite the fact that Ranma was by law her betrothed, he was still an innocent outsider, a young man coming from a far away land who had never known what it was like to live day after day strictly according to the brutal law of nature: survival of the fittest. He didn't deserve to truly feel how it was to take a life. And above all. . . Shampoo closed her eyes. Above all, he was the man that she loved. If only she could've spared him the pain of having no choice but to kill. . .  
  
Ryouga's voice was soft as he continued.  
  
"He was screaming," he said. "Screaming and screaming. . . I know that we always fight but to see him like that. . . I pulled him up and his fists were bloody and Hiro was dead and Akane. . ."  
  
He choked back a sob. Shampoo opened her eyes and stared at the open window.  
  
"Go on."  
  
Ryouga wiped his tears with the back of his hand. "Ranma ran up to her and - she was all dirty and blood was everywhere and she wouldn't wake up and I didn't get to do a goddamn thing!"  
  
He was crying hard again, repeatedly pounding his fist on his knee.  
  
"If I wasn't so stupid to have gotten lost this wouldn't have happened!"  
  
His sobs echoed throughout the room. Shampoo sighed and turned to look at him. Gingerly, she placed a hand on his back.  
  
"How - How is Ranma?"  
  
Ryouga hiccupped and tried calming down. "He's in the hospital with the family. Wouldn't talk much. Blames himself for everything."  
  
". . . Shampoo see."  
  
She stood and picked up her shoes.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"Hospital. Shampoo check on Ranma."  
  
In a blink, Ryouga stood in front of her, blocking the door.  
  
"There's no way you are going there now."  
  
"And why not?"  
  
"They wouldn't even let me in. Akane-san -" His breath was caught in his throat. "Akane-san's in the ICU. The doctors said only family members could come in."  
  
Shampoo's eyes narrowed to slits. Only family members, eh? "Since when can doctors stop Chinese Amazon?" She walked to the side but was blocked again by Ryouga.  
  
"Shampoo-san, don't make this hard for the both of us. The gods know how much I want to see Akane-san but you don't see me marching in there breaking down their walls, do you?"  
  
"Shampoo no break down walls," she said, trying to dodge him. "Shampoo only break bones of people who try to stop her."  
  
"Shampoo-san, please don't - "  
  
She didn't know what possessed her to do it. Probably impulse, or probably the desperate need to see Ranma.  
  
Her poised fingers flashed out, aiming at a pressure point that would send him to sleep. But an inch before it touched his skin, his calloused hand had grabbed her wrist. Snarling, she tried pulling back her hand but his hold was too tight.  
  
"Let go of Shampoo!"  
  
"Only if you promise you won't go to them!"  
  
"What you care?" She said, finally pulling her wrist from his grasp. "Besides, airen not of Tendo family, why he be there too?"  
  
Ryouga's eyes softened. Shampoo stared defiantly at him for a moment, then looked away, understanding that they both knew what the answer was.  
  
"Because she's his fiancée." He said, softly voicing out their thoughts. "Ranma is Akane-san's fiancée. He - He has every right to be there."  
  
Shampoo bit her lip, feeling tears stinging her eyes.  
  
"But by law of Amazons, Shampoo Ranma's fiancée too."  
  
"Shampoo-san. . ."  
  
She walked away from him and put on her shoes, not anymore caring if it was rude to do so in a Japanese home. "There be chow mien downstairs if Ryouga hungry," she said, blinking the tears back. "Nobody eat it anyway."  
  
The young man watched her silently, his forehead creased with worry and uncertainty.  
  
"No worry. Shampoo promise no go to hospital for now."  
  
She smiled sadly as she heard him softly exhale in relief.  
  
"Goodbye."  
  
"Sh - Shampoo-san, wait!"  
  
Before he could catch her, Shampoo had already jumped out of the window, into the night.  
  
* * *  
  
Ukyo madly dashed along the streets of Nerima.  
  
/Where the hell is he?!/  
  
Word had always traveled fast in their neighborhood. Especially when it was about a certain pigtailed martial artist.  
  
She'd swatted a customer in the restaurant that afternoon when she overheard him talking about Ran-chan in a condescending way. Said that he was no good. Couldn't even protect the Tendo girl. Now she's good as dead. And that explosion downtown? 'Twas him. One big jackass, the man said. Always up to no good.  
  
Ukyo didn't regret using her spatula on him even if she did lose a customer. Anybody who talked shit about her Ran-chan would definitely get some hard ass kicking. But what the heck had he been talking about? She knew about the explosion - they said a guy who'd been known as a total freak died because of it, but what did it have to do with Ran-chan?  
  
She passed by the Tendo residence the second time that evening. The lights were still off. Nobody's home yet. The shopping center was closed for the night. She took a peek at the Nekohanten but only saw Mousse, Shampoo, and her Great-grandmother talking quietly. Not wanting to deal with them just yet, she ran to the park, then to Furinkan High, then finally, to the hospital.  
  
"The hospital", she thought. "Of course! If any of those rumors were true then. . ."  
  
Ukyo skidded to a halt when she saw him.  
  
He was sitting on the steps of the building, his unfocused eyes staring far away.  
  
"Ran-chan. . ."  
  
She sprinted up to him and sat down beside him.  
  
"Ran-chan. . ."  
  
Blood had seeped through the bandage on his forehead. His lower lip was kind of swollen, and he had bruises and scratches all over his arms.  
  
"Ucchan. . ." he whispered, his lips slightly curving up to smile.  
  
Ukyo furrowed her brows in worry. Ran-chan had always been so lively. He was never like this.  
  
"I - I've been hearing a lot of gossip about the explosion downtown and they said - So I looked for you to see if you guys were okay and - "  
  
"Akane's not."  
  
She looked at him, eyes wide. "What do you mean?"  
  
"She's in the ICU right now."  
  
Ukyo stared at him in horror. "Akane. . . she. . ."  
  
Whether or not she was her rival for Ranma's affection, Akane had always been her friend. She loved the girl, and she would never place anything in her drink like Shampoo would, or deliver her a bunch of poison-roses like Kodachi would. Akane was nice (in spite of her violent tendencies that is), and she didn't deserve anything like that. She was strong, stronger than she was she had to admit. Nothing could stop her. So to learn that she was lying on a hospital bed in the intensive care unit came as a shock. Ukyo had never dreamt that something like this would happen to her.  
  
"Is she - is she going to be okay?"  
  
There was a long pause as she watched Ranma contemplate the streetlamps that glowed in the dark.  
  
"I don't know. I really hope so. . . " he whispered. "If I'd been more careful. . . If I. . .killed Hiro before he could do what he did to Akane, she. . ."  
  
/Killed Hiro? /  
  
"You did what?"  
  
"He deserved it, Ucchan," he said, running both his hands through his hair. "He shouldn't have hurt Akane. . . shouldn't have forced me to do it. . ."  
  
Ukyo lowered her eyes. Her heart was a whirlpool of emotions - anger, regret, sadness, longing. . . She wished that he wouldn't have to suffer like this. It hurt her to see him this depressed. But still. . .  
  
/Ran-chan, would you have done the same for me?/  
  
Lightly, she held his hand, erasing selfish thoughts in her head with the feel of his skin.  
  
"Don't blame yourself, Ran-chan."  
  
"I - I can't."  
  
"It's okay. . ."  
  
"No, it's not okay! Akane's in that fuckin' ICU 'cause of my fuckin' mistakes!"  
  
Ukyo didn't flinch as he raised his voice. She knew him long enough to know that it wasn't her that he was mad at. Even during their childhood, Ran-chan would talk only to her when he was burdened with his little problems.  
  
If only their problems now were as superficial as a child's. . .  
  
"I - I'm sorry for screaming at you, Ucchan. I'm just so tired and Akane. . . Akane. . ."  
  
"Shhh," she squeezed his hand as she brushed the hair away from his eyes. "Akane will be fine. We both know that she's not one to give up, right? Just believe in her."  
  
Ranma looked blankly at their hands. She couldn't let go, and even if she could, she wouldn't. She knew that he needed her now, even if - she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat - even if only as a friend.  
  
"Ucchan - "  
  
"Don't worry, Ran-chan," she whispered. "We both just have to trust Akane now, ne?"  
  
He looked up at her and gave her a weary smile.  
  
Ukyo smiled back, suppressing a quiet sob as Ranma gently pulled away from her touch.  
  
~*~  
  
To be continued . . .  
  
~*~ 


	2. Lost Constellations

Author's Notes: This is the REVISED version of chapter 2. I would like to thank all of those who reviewed my work, especially Kirinin-san, who went through my work thoroughly and pointed out the mistakes I made. It is mostly because of these helpful insights that I rewrote some parts of this installment; I hope that I managed to make "lost constellations" better. ^_^  
  
The storyline is basically the same, but please take the time to read through it. I made important time changes and clarified a few things about some of the process that patients in coma undergo - like their room transfers and all that. Therefore one has to read this part to be able to understand the next chapters. ^_^  
  
Thank you so much and please read and review as much as you want! ^_^  
  
"/ /" - present thoughts  
  
"// //" - memories, etc, etc.  
  
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi, but the story belongs to me. Any unauthorized copying, lending, or distribution without the author's consent is punishable by law. Violators shall be subjected to investigation by police agencies and to criminal prosecution. =^_~=  
  
~*~  
  
Lunar Ember Presents  
  
A Ranma ½ Fanfiction  
  
WITHOUT HER  
  
~*~  
  
PART 2: Lost Constellations  
  
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I sit in stillness by the edge,  
  
grateful for any trace  
  
of you, however faint.  
  
Echoes of your voice  
  
still glimmer over these dark waters,  
  
where so many others have drowned  
  
in this ocean of silences,  
  
their voices never to touch the ground.  
  
- Anjeline de Dios  
  
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Nabiki awakened to the heat of sunlight on her face. Muttering an oath, she sat up to pull the curtains close, then swung her legs off the bed and glanced at the clock on her desk. It read 2pm.  
  
No surprise at that, she had slept late yesterday due to a school project that she had to finish after staying with her sister in the hospital.  
  
Akane had been taken out of life support after the first three weeks in the ICU. She had then been transferred to the hospital's neuro unit where she stayed for another three weeks, after which she had been taken to a rehabilitation facility.  
  
She was indeed holding well on her own. All her bone injuries had been quickly healing during her days in the ICU, and it baffled the doctors to no end. They said that with most patients it often took a month to a month and a half to do so.  
  
Not her baby sister. Between Tofu-sensei's ministrations and Akane's own strong will, no injury was too great to overcome. Nabiki had been hopeful, really hopeful, that this episode in their lives would finally end and everything would go back to normal.  
  
Akane still remained in coma; in contrast to her other injuries, the doctors said that her neural recovery was slow, and it would take her a long time before she would completely emerge from the coma. No one knew how long the waiting would take.  
  
Nabiki glanced at her calendar.  
  
It's been almost three months now.  
  
Standing up resolutely, she got her change of clothes and went out of the room.  
  
Akane wasn't one to give up. She wasn't going to stay asleep for years. She knew she'd get out of this mess. She might even berate her Nabiki- neechan for worrying about her when she knew perfectly well that she could take care of herself. She had to think of other things. Like visitors. Yes, visitors. Visitors that never stopped arriving since the doctors allowed them to come. School mates, teachers, neighbors - Ryouga-kun passed once, and she bet he got lost again, but as for Ranma's other fiancées, she had barely seen any of them and -  
  
The smell of food wafted to her nose as she went down the stairs.  
  
Somebody was cooking?  
  
It couldn't be Kasumi - she was in the hospital with Ranma and her dad. . .  
  
She walked towards the kitchen and lifted the noren.  
  
"Auntie Saotome?"  
  
The woman turned around from the stove and slightly bowed.  
  
"Hello, Nabiki. I hope that it wasn't rude to have let myself in. . ."  
  
"Oh no, please. We're practically family anyway," she bowing in return.  
  
"Why, thank you dear," Nodoka said as she checked the pot, replaced the cover, and started chopping some carrots. "I'm cooking lunch for you and Genma. Kasumi told me you were the only ones here so. . ."  
  
"You mean you came from the hospital?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh." Nabiki approached her, leaning on the counter beside her.  
  
The rhythmic sound of chopping went on.  
  
"You know, I am rather proud of Ranma."  
  
Nabiki felt sudden anger wash over her like a bucket of cold water. She regarded the older woman with a hard stare - she knew what she was talking about. She was proud that her son had done what a real man should do when the duty of revenge called for it. Nabiki admitted that she was very glad when she learned that Ranma had given Hiro a slow and painful death, but it was only because of what the asshole did to her sister. No matter how cold- hearted she may seem to be to other people, being driven to do something like that would never give her any pride.  
  
"I'm very proud of him," Nodoka repeated when Nabiki didn't answer. "My husband has trained him well. He has indeed grown up to be a man among men."  
  
"How could you say that?" Nabiki said before she could even stop herself. She dug her nails into the counter, her words coming through clenched teeth. "How can you worry about things like manhood and pride when my sister is lying half-dead in a hospital?"  
  
She turned away from the older woman. "Damn it, what the heck am I doing?" she thought, trying to push back the surge of emotions in her chest. Damn it, she won't let this get to her. Nothing ever makes a full mess of her. Nothing. Not even the thought of her sister never waking up. Gotta calm down. . .. Gotta keep everything under control. . .  
  
"I know that, but dear you have to admit that my son did quite well," Nodoka said, maintaining her composure as she got a cucumber and started chopping it. "He was somehow able to balance mercy and punishment even without him knowing."  
  
Nabiki turned to look at her, but even before she could speak, Nodoka lifted the knife to shush her.  
  
"Death by the fist isn't as harsh as you may think. Now, death by the blade is far, far more dreadful," she said in that same conversational tone, as if she was talking about a better way of preparing vegetables. "If anyone ever does that to my Genma or to my Ranma, I would skin him alive and slice him open ever so slowly, and then offer his blood as wine and his heart as food to the darkest of gods."  
  
The loud bang of the knife on the cutting board ended her words, and the sound of chopping resumed. The amiable smile never left her lips as she looked at Nabiki, her expert hands never missing a beat.  
  
"Well, that's all."  
  
Nabiki regarded her quietly. This was another side of her that she never saw. This was the strength that made her carry the sword for years as she awaited the arrival of her son and her husband. It was from her that Ranma had gotten his edge, his sense to protect. Looking at her now, humming as she set the vegetables aside, she knew that her strength came from a mother's raw instinct to keep her own. Saotome Nodoka would never hesitate to draw her sword when it need be.  
  
Memories of kata and ougi filtered into her mind, like raindrops seeping through a slightly open window.  
  
/Am I any different from her?/  
  
Nabiki shook off the memories even as she felt the familiar calculating calmness descend upon her. Martial arts. . .she knew that she was too old, too sophisticated for fist fighting, yet somehow it was the Art that had taught her control. . .  
  
She gave a tired chuckle. Funny how her Auntie's morbid speech had made her remember things that weren't so important to her anymore.  
  
"What's so funny, Nabiki-chan?"  
  
"Nothing, Auntie," she said, pushing herself from the counter. "Well, I gotta take a bath now."  
  
Nodoka smiled at her. "You go on ahead, dear. The food will be ready by the time you're done."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Nabiki looked at the clock that hung on the wall before walking out of the kitchen. It read two-thirty. She sighed, placing her mindset back on the present. She had to be back at the hospital by four to help Kasumi with the visitors. There would probably be more people, she thought. After all, Akane might wake up anytime, and she was sure that everybody would want to be there when she does.  
  
* * *  
  
Sweat trickled down Mousse's back as he lazily pedaled back to the Nekohanten. The rhythmic creaking of the bike wheels cut through the sounds of the neighborhood - crickets calling out to the afternoon, children running home from school, an old woman sprinkling water on the street to keep the dust down. . .  
  
It was peaceful.  
  
Too peaceful.  
  
No hentai stealing underwear - where was the old letch anyway - no dojo yaburi rampaging through the neighborhood, no giant ghost cats looking for brides. . .  
  
No Saotome Ranma.  
  
No Tendo Akane.  
  
He never knew how dead Nerima would be without the two of them.  
  
It's been more or less three months now. Cologne had been quiet; that scheming, dried up fish was probably thinking of ways to turn the situation to an advantage. As for Shampoo. . .  
  
Mousse sighed, wiping his brow with his sleeved arm. Shampoo hasn't been herself since the news of Akane's unfortunate accident came. But of course it wasn't Akane she was worried about. It was Ranma, who still hasn't left his fiancée's bedside until now.  
  
/Saotome Ranma. . ./  
  
He tried to feel the old anger that came with the name.  
  
But he couldn't.  
  
Because it seemed that his long-standing enemy had finally made a choice.  
  
And it wasn't Shampoo.  
  
Mousse guided the bike along a sharp curve, finally seeing the familiar red and gold dragon sign from down the street. Purple hair gently danced with the breeze as the woman he loved stood outside the restaurant, sweeping dried-up leaves.  
  
His breath caught. She was beautiful.  
  
The wheels softly whirred as he parked the bike near the entrance.  
  
"I'm back."  
  
Shampoo didn't give him so much as a glance. He cleared his throat.  
  
"I'm back."  
  
"Mousse go in. There be more deliveries."  
  
There were no sharp retorts, no painful insults. She still talked in that quaint manner that he had always loved, but she sounded so bitter, so hollow.  
  
Mousse nodded and entered the restaurant, biting back the urge to pull her close and tell her that even if Ranma had never been hers, she would always have him.  
  
New orders of ramen for delivery greeted him on the counter. Picking the container up, he quickly shuffled out and boarded his bike.  
  
The breeze picked up slightly, and her hair lifted like soft silk in the wind, the scent of it enveloping him like the way he had always imagined her arms would.  
  
He lifted his glasses and scratched his left eye. No time to think about stuff like that now. He had to finish the deliveries before six. They would be closing the Nekohanten early, since somebody in the hospital - whether in was Ranma or Akane - needed visiting.  
  
* * *  
  
Ryouga leaned against a lamppost as it sparked to life, lightly beating his forehead on the concrete.  
  
He was lost. Again.  
  
"Damn it."  
  
He hit his head harder, frustrated.  
  
"You shouldn't be doing that, you know."  
  
Ryouga glanced to his side to see Ukyo, not in her usual male attire, but in blue jeans and a pink sweatshirt.  
  
"Ukyo-san. You look - different tonight."  
  
The young woman rolled her eyes and deliberately ignored his comment.  
  
"Don't tell me you got lost again."  
  
Ryouga mentally kicked himself - why did he always end up embarrassed in front of people? He scratched the back of his neck. "Actually, I was on my way to the hospital. . ."  
  
A somewhat wistful expression passed over the girl's face as she gave him a small smile. "Why didn't you say so, then. I'm heading that way too. C'mon."  
  
Ryouga regarded her for a moment, then followed closely behind. The girl seemed to have lost her normal spirit; but then again, it wasn't surprising. He deeply sighed. He didn't know exactly what Ukyo felt about all this, but to him, the pain that the incident had caused was enough to drive him mad. The anguish of being cursed by the waters of Heituenniichuan was nothing compared to knowing that woman he loved was - had almost -  
  
"You think she will be waking up today?" Ukyo said, breaking his thoughts.  
  
"Y-Yes. I'm sure she will. . ."  
  
He stared at his feet as he walked. He cannot lose hope. No matter what happed he believed in Akane. She *will* wake up.  
  
"She's going to wake up and then everything will be better again."  
  
"Everything will be better, eh?" Ryouga looked at her, her shoulders shaking as her bitter laughter rang out. "What makes you say that?"  
  
"What are you laughing at, Ukyo-san. What do you mean?" He spoke as quietly as he can, trying to beat down the slight irritation he felt at the sound of her sarcasm.  
  
"Oh stop calling me '-san', Ryouga. I ain't worthy of the honorific." Ukyo sighed as the last of the chuckles left her. "Tell me. What makes you think that everything will be all sunshiny happy once Akane wakes up?"  
  
The scraping of his shoes on the cement as he stopped walking made Ukyo turn around and look at him.  
  
"Ryouga-kun?"  
  
"I believe in her." He felt the words leave his lips, so thick with emotion that he knew they came out of their own volition. "She will make everything okay. I believe that all the pain will disappear once she opens her eyes."  
  
He could feel her sadness and bitterness as if they had touched him when her gaze rested on him.  
  
"I believe that she'll wake up too," she softly said. "But would you be able to stand it if you won't be the one she'll want to see first?"  
  
//. . .If it would be Ranma that she'd want to see first. . .//  
  
Her implied meaning was clear to him. Oh, he had had his illusions: his beloved Akane waking up to the sight of him at her bedside, confessions that would be the beginnings of a promise. . .  
  
Dreams.  
  
Foolish ones at that.  
  
"I would be able to stand it," he said, balling his hands into fists. "For her."  
  
He looked up as he heard her sigh. Her bangs swayed as she shook her head.  
  
"You martyr."  
  
"How about you? Would you be able to stand it when Ranma - when Akane-san. . ."  
  
He couldn't continue.  
  
"I don't know if I could. But I know that I'll have to." She smiled sadly at him, walking on.  
  
"I'm a martyr too, you know."  
  
* * *  
  
It was well past visiting hours, but the doctors couldn't do anything to make them leave.  
  
Shampoo stood in one corner of the hospital room with Mousse and her Great- grandmother. She didn't know why, but even if she really had nothing against Tendo Akane's family, she just didn't want to be standing close to them right now. She folded her hands over her chest, looking away from the bed. Ryouga stood beside her together with the Spatula-girl who didn't seem to be carrying any spatulas that night. They were both silent, lost in their own thoughts. As for the Kuno Tatewaki, the Kendo-man who called himself Blue Thunder - she didn't know how he had gotten in, much less how he had avoided getting kicked out. He had been spewing rotten poetry earlier that evening, until a steady look from Ranma's mother silenced him.  
  
Shampoo looked up at the clock that hung on the wall.  
  
It read 11:30 pm.  
  
Another day would end, and Tendo Akane would remain asleep.  
  
Soun was at his daughter's bedside, crying uncontrollably. Kasumi had been trying to calm him down even as she held back her own tears. Nabiki just sat quietly on a chair, her gaze on her sister.  
  
Mousse walked to the window where Kuno stood, looking at the city lights through the white blinds.  
  
Genma shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  
  
"Are you all right, child?" Cologne whispered, looking at her with expressionless eyes.  
  
"Shampoo fine. Great-grandmother no worry."  
  
She had learned that Tendo Akane was a "pro-long coma patient" or something like that - they said that she could be asleep for a long time, even if her external injuries have started to heal. It had something to do Western Medicine mumbo-jumbo that she couldn't really understand. . .  
  
She was then good as dead.  
  
The young Amazon felt the warm rush of triumph as she thought about it. One fiancée down. She wouldn't have any trouble taking on others who still persisted on pursuing her betrothed.  
  
But then somewhere deep in her, she felt a painful twisting - as if she should be ashamed of herself for even thinking of such things. Something akin to sadness washed over her, knowing that somehow, she wanted the violent tomboy to wake up, because in spite of everything, she could still be called a friend.  
  
Shampoo sighed and leaned her head on the wall, listening the repetitive beeping of some machine.  
  
Saotome Nodoka quietly approached his son and embraced him from behind. Ranma continued to watch Akane with desperate hope in his eyes.  
  
The Kendo-man hissed, muttering something incoherent under his breath as he took a couple of steps towards the bed.  
  
Mousse followed him with his eyes, saying nothing.  
  
Nabiki shivered and ran her hands over her arms.  
  
"I cannot stand to take any of this anymore!"  
  
Shampoo glanced sharply to the right. Kuno was visibly seething even as he desperately tried to regain some semblance of composure.  
  
"I beg to be forgiven, yet I cannot keep silent as the one who is to blame for all this stands in the same room as I!"  
  
"Shut up, Kuno," Nabiki snapped at him. "You shouldn't even be here."  
  
"As they shouldn't be!" He said, motioning towards Shampoo and the others. "Yet at the very least all of them I could stand being with - "  
  
"Hey - "  
  
"As for Saotome Ranma, who is the cause of this misfortune that has befallen the virtuous Tendo Akane - "  
  
"Watch your words, young man," Nodoka whispered menacingly. "Or you would have to deal with me."  
  
Kuno stalled for a moment, then bowed his head graciously. "I do not mean to be rude to a woman of such esteem, but your son - "  
  
"Shut up, Kuno. Don't make me say it again." Nabiki said, her eyes narrowing.  
  
"Let me finish, woman!"  
  
"She said, shut up!"  
  
A crack was heard - paint and plaster fell to the floor as Kuno slid down the wall, unconscious.  
  
Shampoo stared at Mousse pulled his arm back from the punch. Keeping his hands inside his sleeves, he slightly bowed towards Nodoka.  
  
"I'm sorry, but he was irritating me."  
  
"Don't apologize. Just please get that man out of the room."  
  
Mousse did as he was told.  
  
Shampoo followed the Chinese man with her eyes as he walked back to his place by the window. His eyes behind the glasses were unreadable, so unlike the eyes of the duck that she had always toyed with.  
  
There was a shuffle, and saw Ranma standing beside the bed.  
  
She held her breath.  
  
Slowly, he knelt before Akane, cradling her hand in both of his. He silently caressed it, indifferent to the people around him, as if it were something so fragile and precious.  
  
Something in Shampoo begged her not to watch, but she stared on, even if her vision was strangely starting to blur.  
  
His dark blue eyes were rivers overflowing down his cheeks, and it hurt her to realize that his tears were not for her, that they would never be for her, that even before she had started the battle she had lost oh she was so lost and she didn't know where to go or what to do or great ancestors what will happen to your poor little amazon now. . .  
  
"You are a warrior, Shampoo. Warriors have no need for tears."  
  
She shut her eyes tight, summoning every ounce of strength that she had.  
  
"Shampoo not crying, Great-grandmother."  
  
"Good."  
  
She remained silent as she waited for the old woman to continue, but no other words followed.  
  
There was a creak, and she felt the nurse come in for the evening's final check up.  
  
Another day had passed. She wondered how many more days of this she could bear.  
  
Slowly, she opened her eyes. Through the vagueness that danced before her, she saw Ranma lift his head and run his hand over his face.  
  
"It's all right," he whispered. "There will always be tomorrow."  
  
Shampoo felt her chest cave in. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. . .  
  
He would wait for an eternity for her, and she would have nothing but eternal tomorrows waiting for him.  
  
***  
  
~*~  
  
To be continued . . .  
  
~*~ 


	3. Full of Grace

Author's Notes: FINALLY, here is the next installment of my fanfic! GAAAH. . . after weeks of planning and re-planning, I'm finally posting it, 100% hot from the oven hehehe. I really had a hard time writing this - it was harder to do than the last chapter, and I do hope that you like it.  
  
Merry Christmas to all!  
  
Pardon the typos and please feel free to comment! Thanks! ^_^  
  
"/ /" - present thoughts  
  
"// //" - memories, etc, etc.  
  
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi, but the story belongs to me. Any unauthorized copying, lending, or distribution without the author's consent is punishable by law. Violators shall be subjected to investigation by police agencies and to criminal prosecution. =^_~=  
  
~*~  
  
Lunar Ember Presents  
  
A Ranma ½ Fanfiction  
  
WITHOUT HER  
  
~*~  
  
Part 3: Full of Grace  
  
------------------------------------------------  
  
Some deep night, my love,  
  
I want to kiss you,  
  
But as I begin,  
  
I'm no longer there in my quiet lips.  
  
- Jean Page Tan  
  
------------------------------------------------  
  
Kasumi smoothened out the creases on Akane's blanket. The once deep azure cloth had lightened into sky blue, and the printed star patterns had lost their brightness. But in spite of its appearance, it was a good, warm blanket. After all, it was Mother who had given it to her.  
  
She took a couple of steps away from the bed and gazed fully at her sister.  
  
Akane was back in her room. It had been a family decision to take her home where everything was familiar. They couldn't leave her in the hospital's rehabilitation unit where she could be haunted by memories of Mother who like her lay so quietly in the same place the time that she had left them. . .  
  
/Mother. . ./  
  
Sitting slowly on the side of the bed, she reached out and brushed away the blue-black hair that peeped from her new bandages.  
  
Everybody used to say that among the three of them, it was Kasumi who took after their mother the most. She had always thought them wrong - it was Akane who had inherited her looks, from the color of her hair to shape of her face, even to the form of her hands. That is why it had been so hard for her to see her little sister like this - she felt like her past was being replayed in front of her, and she was so frightened of what the outcome would be.  
  
Kasumi wiped away the wetness from her eyes just as the door opened. Akane's nurse came in, a woman in her late twenties named Ayame.  
  
"Hello, Kasumi-san."  
  
She stood up as an automatic smile found its way to her lips. "I'm sorry, is it time for Akane-chan's check up now? Should I leave?"  
  
"No, no. Please. Stay."  
  
"Oh. All right."  
  
Kasumi daintily sat on the wooden chair near the study desk, watching the nurse check on the little machines that were still connected to her sister.  
  
"Is she doing okay?"  
  
"She is," Ayame replied as she pulled her wavy tresses on to one shoulder.  
  
"But it's been a while since she last reacted to our voices like the way she did back in the ICU."  
  
The family had been ecstatic when Akane had somehow responded after three month and a week in the intensive care unit. She had felt hope surge in her heart, and she remembered saying that she should bake a nice cake to celebrate her sister's recovery. It was then that the doctors sat with all of them and explained the situation - in spite of the quick mending of her fractures and wounds, it was rather doubtful that Akane would be fully emerging from coma anytime soon. Her brain injury was serious, they said, and even if she responded to their voices by groaning and moving her fingers, she has yet to open her eyes.  
  
The family hadn't given up hope though. Since then, the Tendos and the Saotomes had continually watched over her, anticipating the rare moments of movement. Skipping school every week, Ranma stayed with his fiancée almost night and day. It was to his voice that Akane responded the most. He talked to her in soft tones, cooing, pleading for her to return to them, even if more often than not the day would pass with her sister's silence. Yet in spite of this, Ranma would always say that he was sure that Akane would wake up very soon, even if she the brokenness in his eyes was far too evident to deny.  
  
" - ter."  
  
Kasumi blinked and saw the nurse gazing at her.  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
Ayame smiled warmly and gently took both her hands. "I said that there would be times when Akane-chan wouldn't be responding to your voices, or to any stimulus for that matter."  
  
An uttered "oh" was almost all she could manage as she looked over to her sister. The following words came out even more subdued, as she already knew the answer. "When. . . when will she. . ."  
  
"I really don't know, Kasumi-san. I wish I did."  
  
Ask each and every doctor throughout Japan, and they'd have the same reply - I don't know - We have to wait and see -- I can never predict -- This is the best answer that I can come up with -  
  
I'm sorry. . .  
  
Sunlight filtered through the window, bathing the room with a soft glow. The faded star patterns on Akane's blanket suddenly seemed to spill with muted light, and she thought them beautiful.  
  
"Your sister will be fine. Believe that, okay?"  
  
She mutely nodded, even as tears traced the skin beside the smile that was on her lips.  
  
"Oh Kasumi-san. . ."  
  
The clean scent of fabric softener wafted to her nose as Ayame held her close. It was comforting, smelling so much like laundry which always reminded her of those days when she'd help Mother with Father's dirty clothes. . .  
  
The tears flowed on, and she struggled against them until she was too tired to do so. She knew she had to be strong, especially during times like these, but right now she just couldn't be. She was scared of not knowing what would happen next, scared that Akane looked so much like Mother before she went away, scared that she would collapse beneath the burden of a family in crisis. . .  
  
Ayame said nothing - there was nothing to say. Yet Kasumi knew that it was all right to cry and let go; the older woman's embrace was a promise that those who sought her for her strength would not know of this momentary weakness. A soft breeze lifted the white curtains, carrying the sobs that Akane could probably hear.  
  
***  
  
Nabiki walked up beside Kuno, her arms on her waist.  
  
"You had this coming, you know?"  
  
"Be quiet, woman!"  
  
Sighing, she studied him from head to foot. Ukyo's blades had pinned him to the wall of the stairwell on the school's rooftop. A gust of wind had passed earlier, turning his hair into an unruly mop that almost leaned to one side.  
  
He looked pathetic. And funny. Oh how the mighty Kuno has fallen. Again.  
  
"I recommend that you stop moving about, Kuno-chan," she dispassionately intoned. "I think those spatulas can really give nasty cuts."  
  
"Dear heavens what have I done to deserve living with this burdensome woman beside me?"  
  
Nabiki gave him her most innocent look, trying hard not to snicker as the man rolled his eyes.  
  
The door of the stairwell opened, revealing Ukyo with Ryouga behind her.  
  
"You guys sure did take your time," Nabiki said. "Kuno-chan here's starting to get bored of me."  
  
"Thou hast never sparked my interested in the first place."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Ukyo poked a thumb at the man behind her. "Mr. Navigator here kinda got lost again."  
  
"Um, sorry about that."  
  
"What would you do without me?"  
  
"This friendly repartee is truly amusing, but aren't thou forgetting that thou hast left the great Kuno Tatewaki "hanging" - in the literal sense of the word?!"  
  
At any other time the statement would have been kind of funny, but that day the couple who had just arrived didn't seem to be in the mood for wisecracks. Nabiki saw Ryouga's eyes slightly darken, as if he had been reminded of something very unpleasant. Ukyo brushed past her and raised an eyebrow as she calmly stood in front of the kendoist.  
  
Kuno was going to get it this time.  
  
"Sempai," Ukyo began. "I don't think that you have any right to complain after picking on Ran-chan every single day - and more so since Akane-chan's accident."  
  
"Accident?!" Kuno blurted out. "Hast thou gone mad! Nothing is an accident where that foul sorcerer Saotome is - "  
  
A spatula that buried itself on the wall an inch from his ear silenced him.  
  
"Kuno-chan, I advise that you let her do all the talking." Nabiki said, watching him through half-hooded eyes. "It will be healthier for you."  
  
The man mutely nodded as he swallowed the lump in his throat.  
  
"As I was saying, you've been picking on Ran-chan every single day, and the three of us think that it's high time that you stopped." Ukyo placed a hand on her waist. "That's why we're all here, sempai. We wanted to talk to you. Tell us, what would make you quit bullying Ran-chan?"  
  
"The pig-tailed girl!" Kuno exclaimed, his eyes suddenly burning with eagerness. "Tell me where I can find the pig-tailed girl, and I - "  
  
He was cut off a second time when another spatula sliced the cloth between his legs.  
  
"Wrong answer."  
  
The man paled, staring at the blade so close to his groin.  
  
If it were up to Nabiki, Kuno would be a eunuch by now. She had expected the answer, but it still grated her nerves to hear that he seemed to care less about what had happened to her sister. After chasing her for such a long time, he should at least be affected by the accident. But no, not Kuno Tatewaki. For the months that Akane had been incapacitated, he still marched around like the king of the hill, using her sister as another excuse to challenge and defeat Ranma, and to "free" his goddamn pigtailed girl.  
  
Nabiki folded her arms over her chest, her finger tapping impatiently on her elbow. "You know Kuno-chan, this could be a win-win situation if you just give us a practical answer. But if you insist on thinking with your balls, it would probably turn into a win-lose thing, with you on the losing end."  
  
"Dost thou durst threaten me, woman?" Kuno scoffed, leaning forward. "Why, thou cannot even kill a fly!"  
  
Nabiki's eye twitched as she felt her control and patience wearing thin.  
  
"Oh you don't know what I'm capable of, Kuno-chan."  
  
"Yet her being Akane-san's sister, I won't allow her to dirty her hands on you." Ryouga, who had been quiet the whole time, stepped forward and gently pushed the girls out of the way.  
  
"So I'll just do the job for her."  
  
The concrete cracked and shattered as his fist flew and hit the wall beside Kuno's ear, crushing Ukyo's spatula underneath.  
  
For the first time in her life, Nabiki saw the great Kuno Tatewaki genuinely terrified.  
  
"I've had enough of this game," Ryouga seethed through clenched teeth. "Nabiki-san and Ukyo-san are nice people who offer you compensations. I'm not. So it's either you quit pestering Ranma, or you face me. It's that simple."  
  
Recovering from his initial panic, Kuno cleared his throat and spoke. "How - How come thou art protecting Saotome, when mine eyes have seen thy abhorrence for him?"  
  
Nabiki watched Ryouga as he opened his mouth for an answer that never came out. She knew why he was protecting him. She saw what had happened earlier that morning on the way to school, when Ryouga came so close to beating up Ranma as he tried to snap him out of his stupor.  
  
Ranma had changed. The Art that was once the center of his life had begun fading into the background of the reality of her sister lying motionless in her bed. In the past months that Kuno had continuously challenged him, his techniques slowly deteriorated - lifeless punches turned into half-hearted blocks and now he wouldn't even try defending himself anymore. And after knowing what he was capable of, after feeling the power behind ever strike, Nabiki thought that it was probably hard on Ryouga to see his friend and rival transform into the shadow of the man he was before. Heck, it was hard for her. She may have never been attracted to Ranma, but she loved the once cocky boy in her own way. And now his patented pride was gone, replaced by shame and sadness, and she missed so terribly his youthful swagger and the comfortable chaos that usually followed him around.  
  
Nabiki ran her hand over her face, suddenly feeling exhausted. Looking up, she saw Ryouga pull his fist from the wall, slowly stepping back to stare at the kendoist.  
  
"Whether I protect Ranma or not is none of your business," he said, finally answering the question after a long moment of silence. Turning away, he began walking towards the stairwell's door, followed by Ukyo.  
  
Nabiki was about to pick up her school bag when she heard Kuno chuckle.  
  
"I see," he said, his spiteful voice regaining its strength. "I remember that thou were with Saotome the time when the fair Tendo Akane was brutally struck down."  
  
Ryouga stalled, suddenly tense. Kuno seemed to notice this and he plowed on, sneering. "Thou then hast a hand in what hast befallen my love. Of course! Those wallowing in guilt protect each other from the wrath of the righteous who wish to punish them!"  
  
She could almost hear her control snapping like a string. Blood pounded in Nabiki's head, and picking up her school bag, she strode towards the man whose maniacal laughter echoed throughout the rooftop -  
  
Only to be stopped by Ryouga who in a flash was on him. Taking Kuno by the collar, he ripped him off the wall and threw him hard to the metal fence meters away from them, the wires creaking and bending at the strength of the impact.  
  
Before the kendoist could even pull himself up, Ryouga was already standing in front of him, picking him up by what's left of his tattered gi and punching him hard on the face.  
  
"You do NOT have any damn right to judge me or to judge Ranma because YOU WEREN'T EVEN THERE!"  
  
Nabiki ran towards the two, feeling Ukyo close behind her. Her mind was in a whirl of anger and shock, yet all she knew was that Ryouga had to be stopped before he could do something irreversible.  
  
Another punch connected with the kendoist's stomach, and he choked, spitting out blood. Ryouga didn't even seem to notice, nor did he try relenting. "You were never there, Kuno," he said, pulling the man up to stare at his eyes. "Ranma did everything he could, much more than anything that I could've done. He KILLED for her goddamnit! And you weren't even there, you fuckin' asshole! You weren't there and YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO BE THERE THE WAY RANMA IS ALWAYS THERE FOR HER!"  
  
"Ryouga-kun! Stop it!"  
  
Nabiki tried separating the two, feeling blood and sweat slide against her hands as she groped for their arms and fingers. It was only when Ukyo tackled Ryouga from behind and pulled him back that he dropped the man.  
  
"Get him out of here," she called out, kneeling in front of the battered kendoist. "I'll deal with this."  
  
Ukyo nodded, leading Ryouga away even as he roughly shook her arms off.  
  
Nabiki turned her attention to Kuno, who was slumped on the ground, leaning on the bent fence and breathing heavily. His left cheek was starting to swell and a line of blood trickled from his lips.  
  
Heaving out a sigh, she reached out and pushed back his bangs, his face yielding to her touch. "Why the hell couldn't you just shut up for once, Kuno-chan?"  
  
His gaze was fixed on her, yet he stared past her, farther away into a nothingness that was veiled from her, breaking his eyes with a pain that Nabiki had never seen before.  
  
"Kuno-chan. . . hey, snap out of it. . ."  
  
"The fool is right," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Ah yes, it takes a fool to know a fool. . ."  
  
"What the heck are you saying?"  
  
He ignored her, his eyes seemingly watching moving pictures that she couldn't see. "I was never there. . . never there for any of them. . ." Nabiki felt his hair slip in between her fingers as he bowed his head. "Mother. . .Dachi. . ."  
  
Nabiki stared at him for the longest time, unused to his subdued voice and to his quiet sorrow. Mother? Dachi? She couldn't understand anything that he was saying, but she sensed that it was something that Ryouga had managed to rouse with his words. Sighing, she gently placed his arm around her shoulders and heaved him up.  
  
"I'll take you to the clinic," she said, smiling at him. "Don't worry, no charge for the effort."  
  
The man remained silent, lost in his own thoughts. She sighed once more. Things were getting more and more complicated, and suddenly she was unsure of whether she really had control over, or even at least a say about anything at all - what with the world playing her for a fool. Life was suddenly like a game of poker, and recently she had been picking all the wrong cards.  
  
Balancing both her bag and Kuno, Nabiki slowly made her way to the stairwell.  
  
There was only one thing that she was sure of now; she wasn't alone in playing this game.  
  
***  
  
"I'm glad that you didn't break anything, Ranma-kun," Ayame said, securing the bandage around his abdomen.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be. I'm just glad that you're fine."  
  
Ranma stared down at the dressing, slowly breathing in as he felt for pain. There was a sudden twinge and he exhaled quickly, rubbing the sore spot.  
  
"It's a really, really nasty bruise," the nurse said, handing him his undershirt and his red top. "You should be taking care of yourself more, ne? I'm sure that your fiancée wouldn't want you hurt in any way."  
  
He slipped his on clothes and started buttoning up. Yes, he knew that Akane wouldn't want to see him like this. She'd probably scold him on why he had let himself be beaten up by Ryouga earlier that morning. Maybe she'd even cry if she saw him not even trying to block the attacks.  
  
Ranma slowly looked up, resting his gaze on the figure lying on the bed, illuminated by the light of the lampshade. Once upon a time, he lived for nothing but the Art. It was like the air that he breathed in, the blood that flowed through his veins, so much so that walking on a two-inch metal fence was the same as walking on stable ground. He needed nothing more; nothing else mattered - until she came.  
  
The announcement of his engagement to a person he hadn't even met was so full of refusal and resentment that their actual meeting seemed anti- climactic. Who was this girl anyway, who reached out to him and asked him to be her friend? Their relationship didn't begin with a violent challenge as almost all of his relationships did. Instead it began with a little spar, every strike and dodge being more like testing the waters, making each person slowly fall into an almost comfortable place along side the other.  
  
Being with her was never easy. She constantly challenged him in all aspects - physically, mentally, emotionally - yet she was never a threat. In fact, it was with her that he felt the safest; instinct had more often than not made him run to her in times of trouble, made him seek her presence in times of sadness. And it was the same instinct that drove him to protect her, to always rescue her and to keep her safe. For every person that had tried to take her away, he had the same answer - she was his and his alone. No one could touch her. No one, until that day when Hiro came. . .  
  
Once upon a time he lived for nothing but the Art. Now he knew that the Art was useless unless he had someone to protect. And that someone lay ever so silently on her bed, all because of him.  
  
He had failed her.  
  
What good was the Art for then if it wasn't enough to protect the one person that he -  
  
Ranma felt fingers on the cloth of his Chinese shirt slowly unhooking the buttons one by one.  
  
"You did it all wrong," Ayame said, an amused smile on her lips. "See? You missed a hole."  
  
Looking down, he saw that his shirt was indeed askew.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Ranma-kun, I think you should stop apologizing for everything that you do."  
  
He stared at his shirt as the older woman fixed it up, knowing very well the hidden meaning behind her words.  
  
"It wasn't your fault, you know."  
  
"It was," he said, inching away from her. "It always is." He could feel her eyes on him, as warm and understanding as Kasumi's. There was a shuffling as she moved closer and once again reached out to finish the last of the buttons.  
  
"Guilt doesn't help you in buttoning up your shirt correctly when you miss a hole," she said, patting his chest lightly and fixing up his collar. "Nor does it aid you in your recovery."  
  
"Me? But it's Akane who - "  
  
A finger on his lips silenced him. "It isn't only Akane-chan who's recovering. Believe it or not, you are too."  
  
Ranma watched her as she stood up and walked towards the door, carrying her first-aid kit with her.  
  
"I think we'll be having dinner in a few minutes. Afterwards Kasumi and I will be fetching Tofu-sensei for Akane-chan's stretching exercises. Will you and Nabiki be the ones to mind the dishes?"  
  
He silently nodded, and slightly raised a hand to her whispered "see you later".  
  
The moonlight and the soft glow of the lampshade drew graceful figures of silver and gold over her skin. Evening shadows muted the few tubes that were still connected to her body, and as she lay there it almost seemed that she was just asleep for the night, that she would wake up any minute now as he slowly knelt beside her bed and ran his fingers across her cheek.  
  
He didn't really fully understand what Ayame meant by him also recovering, but what he did understand was that she was trying to tell him that what happened to Akane was not his fault. It wasn't the first time he had heard that. Everybody - even Ryouga who had tried proving it with his fists that morning - had said the same thing to him over and over again.  
  
But they didn't understand. They couldn't understand. They weren't the ones who saw her get hit by Hiro's attack, they weren't the ones who watched in horror as she fell to the ground. He couldn't catch her. He couldn't save her. And because of that he couldn't forgive himself.  
  
Ranma roughly wiped the tears that were forming in his eyes. Crying was his final defeat, and he wasn't about to show her his tears.  
  
"Wake up, Akane," he whispered. "I have something to tell you."  
  
The very same words that he said during the battle with Saffron came out on their own volition.  
  
"You can hear me, can't you?"  
  
She was beautiful, so beautiful that it was almost painful to look at her. He knew she could feel him as he gently stroked her cheek. And he knew that she'd understand the words that he had more than once failed to say.  
  
"I want to tell you I love you."  
  
It was not only mere instinct that had drawn him to her, for now that he had finally said it aloud, he admitted that he had always loved this girl, this tomboy, this uncute, sexless, violent klutz who had defeated him the very first time she smiled at him.  
  
He wished she'd smile for him right now.  
  
But unlike the time with Saffron when she woke up and whispered his name, Akane remained silent. She didn't even respond to his voice as she did before.  
  
Ranma brushed the hair that fell on her forehead and softly traced his finger down her neck and her shoulder, where it gently rested as he leaned over and kissed her.  
  
He was not the prince on a white horse that Akane had always imaged would carry her to a castle in a far away land, and he knew that she wouldn't wake up like how cursed princesses did in fairytales. But weren't confessions of love always sealed with a kiss? He wanted to do this right for her; he wanted to do something right, even just for once.  
  
Her lips were dry and unresponsive, yet he kissed her chastely - once, twice - memorizing the feel of her before pulling away to stare at the silence of her eyes.  
  
Ranma caressed her cheek one last time and slowly sat up on the side of the bed. He could hear Kasumi softly knocking on the door, her voice filtering through the wood announcing that it was time for dinner.  
  
The outside world moved in constant motion as he once did, but now sitting with her, he felt the cloak of stillness fall upon him as he reached out and held her hand.  
  
She was his only constant.  
  
And now as he had promised with his words, he would be hers.  
  
~*~  
  
To be continued . . .  
  
~*~ 


	4. Light Shaded Dreams

**Author's Notes:**

FINALLY! I give you part four! I apologize for the delay. Oh you wouldn't know how many cups of chamomile tea I had to drink just to relieve stress so that I could finally think of something to write. . . Don't worry though. This chapter is 12 pages long in Word (Tahoma size 8, single-spaced), so my delayed posting is justified by the length of what I'm posting now. (Yeah, yeah, whatever, ember. . . hey that rhymed!)

The title of this chapter I got from a track from a Rurouni Kenshin soundtrack. The title of chapter 3 I got from Sarah Mclachlan's song. Sorry I forgot to mention that.

As for Shampoo's song (which you will see later on in the story) -- I got it from a certain website (which I don't remember at the moment but I'll surely post it as soon as I do). Its title is "Lü Dao Xiaoyequ" or "Green Island Serenade" – a traditional Chinese love song with a really haunting tune. . .

Special thanks to Ms. Cat Herrera, who helped me a lot with this chapter. Also to E2K for the corrections.

Again, please pardon the typos and whatever grammatical errors I might've missed.

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Ranma ½ and all its characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi. All hers. But the story belongs to me. Any unauthorized copying, lending, or distribution without the author's consent is punishable by law. Violators shall be subjected to investigation by police agencies and to criminal prosecution. Then again, I might just throw a tantrum.

* * *

Lunar Ember Presents

A Ranma ½ Fanfiction

**WITHOUT HER**

_Part 4:_

_**Light-Shaded Dreams**_

_. . .We understand flowering and fading at once._

_And somewhere lions still roam: so magnificent_

_that they can't understand weakness. . ._

_- Rainer Maria Rilke_

"Great-grandmother."

Her voice echoed throughout the early morning coolness of the empty restaurant. She felt rather than heard her approach, and as she stood right behind her Cologne knew that Shampoo was hesitating.

"Great-grandmother."

She saw her reflection on the ladle she was wiping dry. Her eyes were hard and her jaw was set, much like how she looked before a battle. But the old woman did not need three hundred years of Amazon history to know that behind this hard, brave mask was uncertainty bordering on surrender.

"What is it that you want, child?"

Shampoo's eyes momentarily flickered with pain before they hardened once more. Cologne placed the ladle down and started wiping another. She knew how much emotional stress the girl had been under the past few months – to finally have Tendo Akane physically defeated only to see her victorious in capturing the heart of Saotome Ranma. There was no denying how much her great-granddaughter loved him. More than the Law, it was because of this that she had come to Japan to pursue the boy. Now she wished that he were nothing more than a male outsider who had no name and no face; one who did not matter to the child that stood behind her. If it were so, then maybe she would not be experiencing so much pain.

She heard her breathe in deeply, felt her clench her fists and narrow her eyes.

"Great-grandmother – help me."

Her gnarled hands stiffened for a moment.

Help. She had never thought that she would hear the word pass through her lips. Shampoo was too strong, too proud to speak of it; she knew that for her even the mere mention of it was the same as admitting defeat.

Placing the ladle down, Cologne slowly turned around and looked at the girl. Purple hair fell over still determined eyes, but now shame and surrender had slowly found their way in.

"Help you with what, my child?"

"With Ranma," she answered, her voice clear and even in her native tongue. "With Saotome Ranma who is my husband by law."

The old woman had seen this coming. After what had happened to the Tendo-child, her son-in-law had changed – and had seemingly chosen. His affectionate display in the hospital a few months ago had been more eloquent than any open declaration of love. And Shampoo had been devastated. Devastated and now fast losing hope. Thus this final admission– _"I cannot do this alone. . ."_

Cologne sighed and looked at her great-granddaughter gravely.

"Shampoo, do you know why I haven't done anything about son-in-law the past months?"

The girl slightly raised her eyebrows and shook her head.

"It is because he has become weak."

She could see the girl flinch at the word even as she could feel its bitterness in her own mouth. Son-in-law was a lot of things – foolhardy, crass, over-confident – but he had never been weak. Never, until recently.

She knew how Ranma's skills have deteriorated since the accident. She had seen the way he moved and she knew that this decline had been brought about by something far deeper than lack of constant training – his spirit was broken, as was his heart. Contrary to what a lot of people believed, Saotome Ranma was not a person propelled by brute strength – it was his spirit that moved him and it was his heart that made him great. It was because of these that he had become unbeatable. Break them, and what would be left would be nothing but an empty shell.

Cologne sighed. So it was true then -- love and guilt makes a fool out of a man.

"He has changed, Shampoo. He is not anymore the man who defeated you in battle."

"Great-grandmother, it isn't – "

"Saotome Ranma is no longer a fitting husband for one who is to inherit my place in the High Council."

The words hung heavily in the morning air. In spite of herself, Cologne felt her throat tighten at her own disclosure. Yet she knew there was no reason to beat around the bush with useless comforting words even as she saw the strength that Shampoo wore in her eyes shatter like glass.

"Did you. . . Oh please don't tell me . . ."

"You know the Law, child. You know it as much as I do." She had to put and end to the girl's foolishness once and for all. "It has been stated that if a man proves to be an unworthy mate to a child of the Tribe, then the honored lady must – "

"STOP!"

Her voice cut through the thick emptiness of the restaurant. Cologne narrowed her eyes, watching her tremble. Back in Joketsuzoku, insolence to an Elder could mean eternal banishment from the Tribe. But they weren't in the Village, and she was not as merciless as the others. She would see where this would lead to.

"Stop…" Shampoo repeated, her eyes tightly shut. "I know the Law, Great-grandmother. But – But I cannot resort to such a thing."

Cologne regarded her silently.

"I – I am so sorry – so sorry for being disappointment to you – and to my Sisters."

The old woman's eyes softened. The girl did not know what she was saying. Quite the contrary my child, she wanted to tell her. Of all the women of the Tribe, it is you I am most proud of. . .

"Great-grandmother. . ."

"Are going to disobey the Law?"

Shampoo balled her hands into fists and they stopped trembling. Slowly, she opened her eyes and gazed at Cologne, who almost smiled wistfully at what she saw.

Defiance.

She had not done half-bad in raising her – in spite of every rule that the child had guiltlessly broken and every tradition that she had single-handedly demolished, she was a worthy successor, and definitely far worthier than any of the others.

"Well, Shampoo? What shall be your decision?"

The young Amazon bore her gaze into her, and Colonge knew that she wouldn't get any answer.

Sometimes, she did not know what she would make of the girl.

"Open the restaurant," she said, turning away from her and picking up the utensils that she had wiped dry. "Do that at least since I've already washed everything that you had negligently forgotten in the kitchen sink last night."

She could hear Shampoo squeak from behind her, obviously surprised at her sudden change of topic.

"Great-gra – "

"Are you going to do it, or not?"

The girl clamped her mouth shut and stood mutely for a moment. Then the old woman heard the slight rustle of clothing and she knew that as Shampoo enclosed her right fist in her left hand, she was bowing towards her in utmost respect.

"Thank you, Great-grandmother."

And then she was outside, putting up the evening screens and pushing back the wide red doors.

Cologne sighed as she hung the ladles and the knives. Stubborn, stubborn child. . .

"She's going after him, isn't she."

It wasn't a question, and she could very well hear the tightly restrained pain behind his voice.

"You know that she would, Mousse."

The backdoor to the kitchen closed with a soft click, and the young man placed the sack of rice he had been carrying in front of the old woman.

"Then why didn't you stop her?"

"You were eves-dropping again."

"You should've stopped her. You know you should've."

Retrieving her rod from a corner, she bopped his head before he could even have the chance to dodge.

"You stupid duck. Since when did anything stop Shampoo? Hundreds of years of rules and traditions have never chained her down. What makes you think that I could?"

Mousse slid down the floor, resting his back on the counter and rubbing the sore spot on his head.

"If you wouldn't stop her then I would."

"Ha! What makes you think that someone like you would be able to do so?"

"She's mine, Cologne."

"She has never been yours, stupid duck. You were too weak to claim her."

"And you were too weak to stop her from running after Saotome even if you knew that it would just probably hurt her!"

He stared impudently at her, his eyes gleaming from behind the glasses. From outside, the soft breeze carried Shampoo's voice singing an old love song:

_This Green Island is like a boat,_

_floating in the moonlight,_

_My darling, you too are floating in the sea of my heart. . ._

Cologne held back the urge to douse the boy with cold water. She knew he was partly right. She was being too lax, too merciful. It was true – she did not want to hurt Shampoo after all that she had gone through. The girl needed a reason to hope, and she knew very well that for her great-granddaughter, all reason rested in Ranma.

"Cologne," Mousse said, peering closely at her. "Do you know how much it would hurt her to fall from another illusion?"

"I am not giving her any illusions."

"Yes you are. You're giving her the illusion that she could have Saotome back, even if she never had him in the first place – "

The young man's eyes momentary widened in sudden realization of something that she didn't fully understand and he sharply turned away, the sudden rush of pain and longing making him move instinctively towards the soft lull of Shampoo's song.

_. . .Let the sound of my song follow the breeze,_

_blowing open the curtain of your window._

_Let my love follow the flowing water,_

_endlessly pouring out its feelings for you. . ._

"She never had him. . ." he whispered. "But she would always have me. . . always."

He looked back at her, and she watched the entirety of a bittersweet love story move in his eyes.

"She knows that, doesn't she?"

Cologne gazed at him, and for the first time, she truly felt for the boy. Mousse had always been a nuisance to her; a defeated weakling who did not even deserve to live under the same roof with the village champion and a council elder. The only thing that kept him in the Nekohanten was the fact that he, too, was of Joketsuzoku – she was not about to leave a child of the tribe out in this cruel, barbaric city. But in the span of time that he had spent with her and her great-granddaughter, Cologne realized that she had failed to see and admit that Mousse had proven himself more than once to be truly deserving of Shampoo. And now that she thought of it, he probably deserved her more than Ranma did, all because he loved her so, more than her son-in-law ever would.

"Yes, Mousse, she knows," she said, finally answering. "I am very sure that she does. And I think that in spite of all the beatings you get from her, she values what you give her more than she can show."

At that, the boy's lips broke into the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

"Gee. . . Thanks. That's the nicest thing you've said to me. Ever." He stood up and dusted the back of his clothes. "You aren't so bad after all.

With a little skip, Mousse went back to the storage room, probably to get a couple of ramen packs for the morning's customers.

Cologne followed him with her eyes. The boy had a bad trait of ruining and underrating serious moments with his lame statements. Yet it seemed that the reassurance that Shampoo knew he meant well was enough to make him happy. In all the years that she lived, she had never seen such a naïve boy with a wisdom that could only be attained by one who knew how to love.

And this wisdom bothered her, she had to admit – what Mousse said about her giving Shampoo illusions was probably true. Why hadn't she stopped her? Ordered her by the power of the Law to cease her foolhardy conquest of reclaiming a man she never really had? A man that had become weak? She could've fought her if she ever resisted.

However, she knew that if she drove the point home by defeating her, it would most definitely break her. And yes, she did not want to be the bearer of such pain even if it were her duty.

_. . .The long shadows of the palm trees_

_cannot conceal my love._

_The bright beauty of the moonlight_

_casts its brilliance into my heart. . ._

Cologne closed her eyes at the sound of her voice. She understood her more than the girl could fathom. She had been young once, and with her youth came the inevitable occurrence of first love. It had been a pity that she had fallen for someone who couldn't even be called a real man – it had to be a sneak, a lecher, a thief who by some snide joke of the gods had been given such immense power and strength. And it had been hard when she finally had to convince herself that he was and would never be worthy of her; she, who had more than once led the strongest warriors in victorious battles and thus had been groomed to be called Matriarch when the time came, could never be seen with such a pathetic excuse for a man.

But it had hurt her. Even as she headed the chase that drove him out of the Village, it broke her heart to hear him say that he would never be back, for even his Cologne-chan had turned against him.

She had cried herself to sleep that night. Oh how she'd wished that he did not take the Nanban mirror with him so that she could've traveled back in time and set things right. . .

Still deep in thought, Cologne placed her rod on a corner and set a large wok on the stove.

In reality, she had it easy. The only thing she had to do was to get over a useless pervert. And so she found herself a strong helpmeet, got married, and bore heirs that any Matriarch could be proud of.

As for Shampoo . . .

How could she have wanted a man who was so right and at the same time so wrong for her? Nobody caught her as she first fell in love, and there still was nobody to catch her as she would inevitably fall out of it. Even Mousse in all his devotion to her could not do so; she had to learn to deal with it alone.

Love and illusion – were they any different after all?

Early morning sunlight burst into the restaurant as Shampoo raised the last of the blinds. A couple of customers came in; it was time to get to work.

Over the sound of sizzling oil, the Elder Amazon heard the final strains of the girl's song.

_. . .This Green Island night is so calm and serene,_

_My darling, why are you silent, saying nothing?_

The haunting melody stirred the old woman's withered heart, and as the voice faded into the morning, Cologne heard the girl buried deep in her soul cry in regret.

* * *

It was around an hour after lunch, and Ono Tofu could feel the lethargy brought about by the afternoon slackening his limbs. Yet in spite of this, he pleasantly gave his patients doses of sincere smiles, talking to them in soft, comforting tones to take their focus off the pain that his ministrations sometimes caused.

"Just take it easy on that right wrist, all right Kenji-kun?"

"'Sis 'kay, sensei," the young man said as he jumped down of the bed. "I ain't gonna do nuthin' with it for a while."

"Okay then." The doctor led him out to the receiving room and opened the door. "Take care. And do say 'hi' to your parents for me."

"Will do. Thanks, sensei."

"No problem."

He watched as he went out the gates and disappeared down the street. In spite of being a bit rough around the edges, Kenji-kun was a good kid who liked calling himself a half-baked kendoist. Tofu would often berate him about such self-criticism because that he knew that he had the talent; all he needed was a little effort. At that, Kenji-kun would only laugh and shrug his shoulders nonchalantly – actually, he himself couldn't care any less.

The doctor sighed. He didn't know why, but somehow Kenji-kun reminded him of how Ranma-kun used to be – it was probably the swagger or maybe the way he spoke. . .

"Good afternoon, Tofu-sensei."

Tofu turned and met the gaze of the auburn-haired nurse.

"Oh hello, Ayame-san. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Actually, there is," she paused. "Would you mind if I came in?"

"No. Please do."

"Thank you."

The doctor opened the door wider to let her pass. At the back of his mind, he wondered how come he had never noticed that she was actually an inch taller than he was.

He led her to the receiving room and he invited her to sit down, asking if she wanted some tea.

"Please don't bother, sensei. I won't be staying long."

Tofu sat down on a chair near the couch and regarded her with a slightly curious expression.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I came here on a weekday."

Embarrassed, the doctor rubbed the back of his nape in an attempt to hide the rudeness of staring at his guest.

"Oh dear, where are my manners. I'm sorry, Ayame-san," he smiled at her with sincerity. "But yes, I didn't quite expect your visit. Is anything the matter?"

"No, not really. I was actually just wondering if you could look after Akane-chan for me for a while."

Tofu blinked. "Oh. Um. . . Forgive me for asking, but are you going anywhere?"

"Yes, I need to check on something today," the woman replied, brushing back a lock that fell on her cheek. "I hope you don't mind, but if it's going to be too much of a bother -- "

"No, no. It's all right. Consider it done." The doctor adjusted his glasses. "Besides, my next appointment won't be 'til 5 pm. . ."

"I'll be back by then. Please don't worry." Ayame smiled graciously and stood up, the man following suit. "Thank you so much for accommodating my request on such short notice," she said rather formally and bowed.

"A-ano, it's all right, really." For some weird reason, Tofu had always been uncomfortable with stiff etiquette, and he returned the bow with a somewhat awkward one of his own.

"Please let me walk with you to the Tendo residence."

Tofu uneasily chuckled and waved his hands in front of him. "Oh it's okay, Ayame-san. Please don't bother. I'd rather that you be your way. . ."

"Very well. . ."

Stepping out of the clinic, the woman faced him and gave him another bow.

"Thank you again, sensei. Have a good day."

"Same to you."

Tofu heaved out a sigh as he closed the door and went to get his haori.

Ayame had always been quite a mystery to him. He knew that she was a good lady, and in some ways she did resemble Ka - Ka - Ka – he mentally choked out the name before his glasses fogged up again – Kasumi; though of course nobody could really compare with the woman who he always dreamt of proposing to one day. . .

Thinking about Kasumi was always dangerous. He should always keep himself in check.

Tofu shook his head to clear up the fantasies that were already brewing in it.

He had known Ayame for only a few months, but he could attest to the fact that she truly loved Akane-chan and the rest of the Tendos and the Saotomes. She had always been cordial to him, but usually they didn't really get to talk much.

"_That's probably because I just always talk to Ka – Ka – Ka – " _He thought guiltily, giving up on finishing his beloved's name.

Still, he had always felt that there was something more to Ayame. No, not something evil or forbidding – he had felt her _ki_ and there was nothing frightening about her. But there was an unusual feel to her presence; behind her outward calmness and cheerfulness, there was something sad and most definitely enigmatic. . .

And now this notion had been heightened by her visit. She would almost never left Akane-chan's side. It was only during weekends when she would visit the hospital to submit a report on her patient's condition that she would ask him and Kasumi to look after the girl. It was not that he minded being the one with Akane-chan that afternoon, but he found it rather curious that Ayame would drop by and ask him that kind of favor without much explanation. . .

Tofu locked up his clinic and posted a note by the gate saying that he would be resuming services by five o'clock. He needed to hurry – it wouldn't be good to leave Akane-chan without any medical supervision so he had to be there, even if he wasn't really much of a practitioner of advanced western medicine.

Feeling the warmth of the afternoon on his skin, he winced and quickly removed the haori over his shoulders, placing it neatly on his arm. From Akane-chan, his thoughts drifted to Kasumi, and he hopedthat she was doing all right.

* * *

Ryouga leaned on the tree trunk, watching the sunlight dance above him as it filtered through leaves swaying to the warm breeze. Closing his eyes, he ran his arm on his forehead and heaved out a long sigh.

"Hot, ain't it?"

He nodded and groaned in assent, adjusting his position so that the all too warm rays wouldn't hit his face.

"Want some iced tea?"

Lazily he opened his eyes and saw Ukyo lifting her thermos for him to see. Sunlight bounced off its shiny silver surface and he involuntarily squinted.

"Yes please," he mumbled.

The girl twisted off the cap and poured the tea in it. The sound of the cold liquid sloshing into the makeshift cup was refreshing, and as he downed the drink in two gulps, he felt his mood getting better.

"Another one please?"

After a few more cups Ryouga handed back the thermos cover with a smile on his face.

"Thanks Ukyo-san. I'd ask for one more but I might finish it all up."

"Don't worry, you drank half of it anyway," the girl said in an almost sarcastic tone.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

She unpacked her lunch, and Ryouga couldn't stop his stomach from growling aloud. He gave her a sheepish grin as she rolled her eyes and glared at him.

"Don't tell me you want half of my lunch too."

"No it's yours – but I haven't eaten in two days 'cause I got lost again and I didn't have a lot of supplies any – "

"Fine fine, I get the picture," Ukyo sighed as she offered him the bento. "Eat half of it."

"Really?"

"Just eat it before I change my mind."

"Gee. . . Thanks."

Ryouga scarfed down his share in three minutes then handed the box back to the girl, thanking her profusely even if her generosity satisfied only a quarter of his hunger.

He settled back on the tree trunk, knowing very well that it was rude to stare at someone who was eating. Minutes passed in companionable silence, and the regular humdrum of Furinkan High during lunchtime seemed to grow fainter into the distance as he felt sleep slowly pulling his entire body into blissful stillness.

"Ryouga-kun?"

Jolted right back into consciousness, he quickly opened his eyes.

"Yeah?"

The girl was gazing at him with an unusual expression on her face, and he could see that she was unsure of whether she should proceed or not.

"Ryouga-kun," she repeated. "After that – thing – with Kuno-sempai a couple of days ago, you -- suddenly disappeared. . ."

She placed down her unfinished lunch, her voice suddenly becoming a bit more subdued.

"Where did you go?"

Ryouga lowered his eyes and gave an almost inaudible sigh. He had expected the question; with the way he bolted that day leaving her standing in the middle of a corridor, he knew that sooner or later she would ask.

"I actually don't know, Ukyo-san. What with my sense of direction . . ."

She laughed lightly at that, but the sound of it quickly faded.

"I – I just needed to get away from it all I guess. To get as far away from this place as possible. Though at the back of my head I knew I was still in Nerima and I had just been wandering in circles. . ."

"I think we all need a time off," she said wistfully. "The past few months had been horrible. . ."

Ryouga glanced at her and saw that she was staring at some far away point in the sky, as if doing so would give her answers.

"I never thought I'd say this, but after that incident with Kuno, I couldn't stay near any of you. . ."

He felt her eyes on him even as he averted his.

". . . not even near Akane-san."

How could have everything led to this point? Before, he wouldn't have confided something like this to anybody. Heck, he wouldn't even admit something like this to himself. He had loved Akane from the first time he felt her lips brush against the nose of his cursed form, and it was then he promised that nothing would ever make him feel otherwise. Those words still held true, yet somehow, the same words made him realize that he couldn't bear to be near her. Not right now. He loved her, yes, there was no denying it, but he knew that if he didn't run away, if he didn't hide from her powerful presence that enchanted him as a flame enchants an unsuspecting moth, he was sure that he would destroy himself. He would burn. And from that he knew he would never recover.

"I understand you, you know."

He glanced at her and saw a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"There were times when I would feel the same way about Ran-chan. Sometimes I would just leave Konatsu with the restaurant and run to the farthest side of town where nobody knows me and get myself lyrically drunk," she laughed at something she seemingly remembered. "I'd hang around somebody else's yatai and get as drunk as a sailor. Sometimes even with sailors. Or office employees. Or just plain anybody who also had a sad story to tell. Misery needs company, you know. Company and lots of saké."

Ryouga stared at her and laughed in spite of himself.

"Yeah, I could imagine you doing something like that."

"Hey, what does that supposed to mean?"

"You seem like the kind of hardy girl who'd go on drinking binges with men."

"Are you saying that I'm not feminine!"

"Ukyo-san, I didn't mean it like that – "

"Then what exactly did you mean?!"

He looked at her helplessly. Suddenly, he seemed to understand what Ranma probably felt every time he'd say something that others took the wrong way –

Ryouga blinked and lowered his gaze.

Ranma.

At the mere mention of his name it was as if a heavy block of ice had settled at the pit of his stomach.

He suddenly realized that their situation was actually funny in a twisted sort of way – he had always thought that he was the emotional retard. Ryouga knew that he always had bouts of depression, and with the amount of stress that he frequently had to go through, it was actually quite normal. As for Ranma, he seemed to have nary a care in the world, even if he had four fiancées – well, technically three and a self-proclaimed girlfriend – tagging along the roller coaster ride that was his life. Add that to the mayhem that seemed to be attracted to him as much as cold water was – curses, dolls, ghosts, lechers, psychics, half-gods, monsters, freaks, cats, guides, princes, fathers, suitors, skaters – the list could go on and on. At times it seemed that the entire world was against Ranma, and it was most definitely a wonder that he was still alive and practically sane after living out trick after trick that the holy deities had played on him. The more he thought of it, the more he got convinced that if he were the one in Ranma's shoes, he would've lost his mind a long, long time ago.

But now things have changed. The tables have turned.

It seemed that he was almost doing well in keeping himself together. His rival on the other hand, was a total emotional wreck.

It was funny that after all that he had gone through, it would only take one girl to defeat Saotome Ranma. And it was the same girl, who consequently, had also defeated him.

Tendo Akane.

"I miss her, you know."

The previous misunderstanding had been forgotten in the silence that had ensued. There was a shuffle, and he felt Ukyo's hand momentarily brush against his.

"I know."

To other people looking into their proverbial fishbowl, their lives may seem to be a humorous cartoon series revolving around a band of martial artists who had to deal with things that normal people never had to deal with. Here, nobody gets seriously hurt even after being hit with a mallet on the head and nobody dies even after being seared by the flames of an angry phoenix god. Things like that would sell, especially to girls who dream of having an indestructible martial artist as their very own boyfriends – or pets.

But to them living inside the fishbowl, life was anything but comedic. To them it has always been difficult, and most of the time fate was brutal and unforgiving.

Suddenly it all crashed down on him – everything that he had gone through from the beginning his training, to meeting Ranma, to his curse, to his vengeance, to his defeat, to his hatred, to his love. . .

And then he was sobbing. The tears shook him, made him shiver, and he heard his voice break as he cradled his head in his hands.

"Do we really deserve this, Ukyo-san?"

He felt her move near him, and he was thankful that she did not try touching him or fooling him with senseless words of comfort.

"Maybe we do."

She let him cry until the well ran dry, until he could feel his eyelids heavy with inexplicable fatigue.

"Better?" the girl beside him asked softly.

". . . Yeah."

Ukyo smiled at him and he clumsily smiled back.

"It's always good to cry you know."

"Maybe. . ."

He could hear her once again twisting open the cap of her thermos, and felt her pressing it into his hand.

"Here. Drink."

Ryouga cradled the container as if it could offer any kind of consolation. On its cool, shiny surface, he could see himself – tired, worn, and lonely.

Nothing new. Maybe he was indeed destined to be a wanderer with nothing to hold on to; the curse of being perpetually alone was more painful than the curse of his transformation. . .

"Hic!"

"Oi."

"Hic!"

"Drink that up, you silly man. You're starting to get hiccups."

Blinking, he discovered that his shoulders were bouncing on their own volition and little squeaky sounds were coming out of his lips. The suddenness of it lessened the somberness of the atmosphere, and in a moment he could hear himself and Ukyo deliriously laughing aloud. Oh, it was so good to feel his stomach tighten in outlandish amusement – maybe that was what everybody needed after all.

It may have been because he was tired from all the emotional highs and lows, or maybe it was just because he wasn't paying attention, but the last things he could remember before the world got terribly bigger was Ukyo's sudden screeched warning, something like hard plastic connecting with his cheek, and the coolness of the tea spilling all over him.

"Sorry about that," a student called out as he ran to them to retrieve his frisbee.

But it seemed that neither of the two heard the apology. All Ryouga was fully aware of now was that he was small, black, naked and still hiccupping, and that Kounji Ukyo was staring at him with eyes as big as saucers.

* * *

Kuno Tatewaki sat in front of his mother's altar. He knew that he had been there for quite sometime now, for the harsh midday heat had already waned to the caressing warmth of the afternoon sun. He sat there, bearing the throb of his wounds as he kept his back straight, having the need to think, to remember, to be silent.

It had been more than nine years since his mother passed away, yet he remembered her smile as if it were yesterday. Her voice was more than just an echo in the inner recesses of his memory; it was ask clear as the tinkling of crystal, as reassuring as a warm embrace on a ruthless winter's night. His life had been so sensible back then. If she hadn't died maybe it would still be sensible now. . .

Hibiki Ryouga's voice went on taunting him mercilessly.

_You weren't even there. . ._

He was right. It hurt, hearing it from somebody he barely knew, but he had to admit that it was true. How could he be there for Tendo Akane if he couldn't even be there for his mother when she had needed him the most?

He had been a mere child back then; a spoiled little brat who always wanted more, not knowing that he should've already been contented with what he had. It was indirectly because of his greed that his mother had died. Kuno bit down the sarcastic chuckle in his throat. His mother had died for such a ridiculous reason, and it had made it even more painful that it probably should have been.

It had been like a day like this – warm, bright and sunny. He had spent his afternoon with her and was about to go home when he spotted a newly opened candy shop along the sidewalk. He had insisted that he went in, in spite of his mother's entreaty that he should not; he might have another bad case of tooth decay, she had said. But being the hardheaded boy that he was, he disobeyed her and ran, determined to buy himself a pound of candy with his savings.

He had left his mother by the sidewalk and went in alone. The next thing he could remember was the commotion outside. He turned around to see a man with his mother's clutch bag being chased by a number of civilians. Kuno distinctly remembered blinking then, and paying the man over the counter before walking out of the store. The noise outside had seemed deafening; his little feet carried him towards a group of people crowding around something that he couldn't see. Still with the pack of candy in his hand, he calmly made his way through the forest of legs, in a few moments finally reaching a clearing where his mother lay on the cold concrete, her immaculate white blouse tainted by the red that bloomed on her chest.

If only he hadn't been selfish. . . If only he had been there. . .

He barely remembered anything after that. His next memory was of burning incense in front of her altar, as family and friends gathered in their ancestral home to pay their final respects.

It was at that time that all things lost their meaning.

His father had promised that he would take good care of him, but in his child's mind he knew that he blamed him for his mother's death. At first he went out of his way to be with him, and their little games had been some sort of a temporary balm to his wounds. But as time passed the games became rougher, more frightening, and then soon they became painful, too awful for him to even remember them. His father would do things that he had probably sincerely thought amusing, like hanging him upside down from his bedroom ceiling whenever he lost a bet. All the while he would smile at him and say that he was such a loving and obedient son, and that he was so proud that he was bringing him up quite well in spite of the loss of his mother. After long minutes of futile struggling, Kuno would give up, and with tears in his eyes he would just wait for a kindly helper to cut him down.

It had always been like that for him. As for Kodachi. . .

Kuno sighed, staring at his mother's smiling photograph. Kodachi looked so much like her mother that after the incident he had refused to be near her; her face had haunted him like a ghost that had returned to demand for amends. It was probably because of this that his father had adored her so much; he bought her clothes, jewelry and combs, and dressed her up like a doll. Kodachi's seraphim-like beauty was as piercing as an arrow to the heart, but she never glowed. As beautiful as she was her eyes remained dull, like a mirror reflecting only what is in front of it. She rarely spoke; she only tended her flowers in the large garden that her mother had left behind. Often, she would peek inside his room after his father had finally left him alone, but she wouldn't come near him; she would only look at him with a gaze that asked not to be despised or avoided.

It was only once in all her visits that she spoke.

"Onisama."

Kuno had forced himself to look up at her; his tears blurred her face but he still could see its sharp exquisiteness and perfection. He refused to look away.

"What is it, Dachi?"

The girl rested her pale hand on the slightly opened door and searched his eyes.

"Do you love me?"

His tears stopped; he stared at her for the longest time, not knowing what to answer. He did love her yes, but he was afraid of her, afraid of her loveliness, of the thought of her accusing eyes, of the face of their mother that had found its way to claim hers.

Before he could answer, Kodachi had slipped out of the door.

Little did he know then, that the child that she was had also slipped out of his life.

After a year or so, his father left.

The atmosphere of the entire household had slowly returned to its previous normalcy later on. He did not miss his father much, but he missed terribly who he was before his mother's death – he had then convinced himself that he left for an honorable cause such as purifying himself, or something akin to that. Kuno, on the other hand, often visited his mother's grave, offering prayers and begging for forgiveness.

As for his relationship with Kodachi, all had changed after that final conversation. Gone was his sweet little sister who, before the incident, perpetually trailed him and adored him in everything that he did. She was civil with him, but he could hear the cold indifference under the velvet of her voice everytime she addressed him. Her eyes had become as hard as agates – they did not even reflect anything anymore; they only greedily took in and drowned everything in their empty pools. Her once light laughter transformed into a deep, deranged expression of mixed bitterness and vicious glee, and her garden that once bloomed with the colors of an eternal spring slowly turned into a nightmare of dark blossoms and noxious foliage.

She had turned into the ghost that he had once so feared. And it was because, like with his mother, he had not been there for her.

So the once brilliant rose had shed its blood petals and bloomed into the blackness of death and sorrow.

The existence of Kuro-bara was his fault.

Kuno clenched his fists and stiffly bowed to his mother's photograph before reverently closing her altar. He didn't know what to do, but he knew he had to do something.

"Sasuke."

The omnitsu materialized from the wall and jumped behind him, kneeling respectfully.

"Tatewaki-sama."

"Does my sister know about the misfortune that had befallen Tendo Akane?"

"No, Tatewaki-sama," Sasuke answered. "We made sure that no news of it ever reached Kodachi-sama. It is just as you had ordered"

"Very good. A job well done." Kuno stood up and walked towards the door.

"I do not want to seem rude in asking, Master, but what are you going to do?"

He rested his hand on the knob, silently debating if his plan of action was wise or not.

"I am going to tell her myself."

His sister's bedroom was at the farthest side of the hall; the people of the house had decided a long time ago that they be separated from each other, what with the adolescent Kodachi's frightening schemes to injure her own brother, and his own honorable measures to pursue vengeance. They both had mellowed down as the years went by, but the look of disgust for him never left his sister's eyes.

He knocked on her door, listening for any movement inside.

"Dachi?"

There was a slight shuffling, and Kodachi emerged from the room.

"Onisama," she said, her lips curving into a sarcastic smile. "Is there anything that I can help you with?"

"There is nothing, but it would be gracious of thee to invite me in."

He did not miss the look of suspicion in her eyes even as the smile on her lips grew wider as she fully opened the door.

"Do come in then."

"Many thanks."

She had been fixing up her dolls again. She had a lot of them; lifeless limbs garbed in exquisite silk, their porcelain faces frozen in half grins. Kuno would never admit it, but they sort of freaked him out.

"Take a seat."

Kodachi motioned him towards the floor as she sat on the bed. He inwardly smirked, knowing very well that she enjoyed seeing him in a position lower than she, especially now that he was still weak and wounded from the recent fight with Hibiki. Slightly bowing his head, he pulled out the chair of her dresser, placed it in front of her and sat down.

He could already see the anger sparking in her eyes.

Kuno sighed, knowing very well that irritating her wasn't the point of his visit. He had to set things straight. Hiding the truth from her sister was unkind, though he knew that he had to do it. Now, sitting in front of her, he decided to do the honorable thing.

"Dachi, I have been meaning to tell thee something of utmost importance."

Her eyebrow shot up, and she folded her hands in front of her chest.

"This has got to be really important, Onisama. Or at least interesting. I haven't got all day."

Kuno stared at her face, painfully seeing her mother's restless soul move in her features. She was beautiful. Breathlessly so. Yet it was a kind of beauty that had hardened with time, and no act of contrition could ever soften it.

"Hast thou heard of the most unfortunate explosion that had occurred in the far side of this town a few months past?"

"Yes I have. Though I can't say I know exactly what happened."

Kuno sighed once more, and told her everything.

Her pursed lips was the only sign of emotion that he received after the tale. Her eyes were unreadable, and her arms remained crossed.

"I see."

He looked up at her, and spat out the words that he so hated saying.

"Forgive me, for I have kept this from thee."

Kodachi slightly reeled back in genuine surprise, for it was rare that his brother ever admitted his mistakes. But the surprise quickly faded behind her mask of stoicism, and her eyes pierced his, revealing nothing.

"Is that all, Onisama?"

Kuno swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. Something was wrong. His sister hadn't gone into hysterics as she often would in such situations. She was calm, almost frighteningly so, and Kuno suddenly regretted telling her anything at all.

"Just promise me one thing, dearest sister."

"It depends on what kind of promise that is, dearest brother."

"I beseech thee not to do anything to Tendo Akane as she is now at her weakest. Please."

Something dark moved in Kodachi's eyes even as she stood up and led him to her door.

"I am not as dishonorable as you may have come to think," she said, her voice even and serious. "On my word, Onisama, your beloved lady will remain untouched until she recovers."

Kuno let out a breath that he hadn't known he was holding.

"Many thanks, Dachi. Thy consideration is most greatly appreciated."

"Thank you for telling me this."

"'Tis nothing but duty. 'Till dinner time then."

"'Till dinner time."

He watched as she closed her door on him. That went well. Surprisingly well. It was the most decent conversation they had in years. It hadn't ended with them plotting the death of the other – in fact, it had left both parties practically unscathed.

It frightened him.

The feeling of impeding doom throbbed in his chest. Something was most definitely amiss. He couldn't place a finger on it, but it was there.

But then he remembered her words –

_I am not as dishonorable as you may have come to think. . ._

It was rare that she said something like that. Maybe this time, she actually meant it.

_On my word, Onisama. . ._

That was all that he had now. Her word. And he had no choice but to trust it.

He walked back to his quarters. He needed time to think once more.

He was already too far away to hear the crashing of porcelain that echoed inside the room he had recently left.

"Thank you for telling me, Onisama. Now the pieces of the puzzle fit together," Kodachi said, lifting the shattered face of one of her dolls. It amazed her how its distorted expression looked more beautiful than its once smiling face.

"Don't die on me yet, Tendo Akane."

Her nails dug into the doll's skin as she ripped its head out of its neck.

"Let me have the pleasure of killing you."

* * *

_to be continued. . ._


	5. Quiet Echoes

**Author's Notes:**

Finally. FINALLY! After ONE YEAR I have FINALLY managed to finish Part 5 of "Without Her!" Dear heavens, I am such an uninspired lazy ass.

It would be advisable if you reread some of the past chapters – I think I added one sentence to the last one just for the sake of continuity. . .

I would like to apologize to all those who waited for me to continue this fanfic. And I would also like to thank those who reviewed, even if I really couldn't email you all my gratitude.

Special thanks to PandaDiVolo325 who tried waking me up from my creative stupor! I am grateful ohyesiyam.

Again, please pardon the typos and whatever grammatical errors I might've missed. Comments will be graciously accepted – I have this feeling that this installment will need more tweaking. . .

Enjoy!

.:EDIT:. SORRY ABOUT THE MESSY LAY-OUT! i already tried fixing it up so i hope this time it comes out okay. SORRY!

**Disclaimer:** Ranma ½ and all its characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi. All hers. But the story belongs to me. Any unauthorized copying, lending, or distribution without the author's consent is punishable by law. Violators shall be subjected to investigation by police agencies and to criminal prosecution. Then again, I might just throw a tantrum.

* * *

Lunar Ember Presents

A Ranma ½ Fanfiction

**WITHOUT HER**

* * *

_Part 5: _

_**Quiet Echoes**_

"_. . .Look, we don't love like flowers_

_with only one season behind us; when we love,_

_a sap older than memory rises in our arms. . ."_

_- Maria Rainer Rilke _

* * *

Ranma sat on the engawa, feeling the dampness of her red hair fall on her back. A towel rested over her shoulders, yet even if it did cover her breasts it was no protection from the chilly morning breeze that made the wind chime tinkle overhead.

With idle detachment, she let her eyes rest on the koi pond. The rocks that surrounded it were cracked, and water was slightly seeping from them. The koi didn't seem to mind them much, but what did disturb them was the fur that floated on the water's surface. They drifted around in clots of suspicious black and white, giving the fish a hard time of going up for air.

She'd have to scoop them out soon. She didn't want Akane to wake up to a pond of dead koi.

With a small sigh, she looked up to the direction of her fiancée's room. Akane had heard her voice that morning. She had softly mewed to her in apparent reply and had even squeezed her fingers. Ranma smiled. The thought of her was more than enough to vanquish the hot anger and irritation that her jackass of a father had caused. He had been forcing her into another training session again, when all she wanted was to just be beside Akane. He had doused her with cold water, saying that his son was better off a girl for becoming such a wimpy fool.

But wasn't that what he wanted? To care for her fiancée more than herself or anything else in the world?

In bewilderment and anger her patience snapped, and with a sudden rush of strength she threw him out the window, making him crash into the pond with much greater force than usual. At the back of her mind, she knew Akane was going to berate the both of them for shattering the glass again, but she'd deal with her malleting with the time came. She silently watched the giant panda float unconsciously on the water's surface as she seethed with disgust. It was his mother who had pulled him out of the pond, her normally gentle eyes glinting with displeasure as she dragged him unceremoniously up the stairs. Ranma had almost laughed at the sight. Oyaji definitely deserved whatever she had in store for him.

"Son? I got you your hot water."

Slightly tipping her head back, she felt the warmth fall on her forehead, down her face and her neck. A tingling sensation signaled the reversal of the curse, and in a moment, he was peering at his mother though his black bangs.

Nodoka placed the kettle down and took the dry towel that hung from her shoulder. As she gently rubbed at his wet hair and cheeks, Ranma did nothing to avoid his mother touch, nor did he feel embarrassed at all to be treated like a little boy.

"So are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah," he said as he felt her remove the damp towel from around his neck. "I've decided not to ruin my day

anymore with Oyaji's stunts. Not when Akane just talked to me."

Nodoka smiled and sat down beside him. "Your anger is well-founded, but son, even if your father is an – um, how should I say this – is an -- "

"'Ass?'"

Mischief danced in her eyes as she glanced at him. " An insensitive man most of the time, he means well."

Ranma stared at her for a silent moment before studying the cracks on the pond's rocks.

"'Ass' would've fit better, Okufuro."

"Ranma, he's still your father."

"It's hard to think of him as a father sometimes," he said, his voice coming through clenched teeth. "How could you say he means well when you saw what he did this morning? How could he force me to go training with him at a time like this?"

"He tells me that you've become broken and weak. He thinks that the Art that you live for would help you get through this."

"I do NOT live for the Art anymore, Okufuro!"

He saw the surprise in her eyes even as it quickly melted into an expression that he couldn't quite read. She looked away, simply staring ahead.

"Son, are you saying that you're giving up on everything that you've learned?"

Ranma gazed at her, and the feeling of confusion and helplessness embraced him almost like an old friend.

"I – I don't know," he whispered softly. "I'm so unsure of everything. . . All I know now is that my life -- my entire life – doesn't revolve around it anymore. Not as much as it revolves around . . . "

"Around Akane?"

He didn't reply. Neither did she ask again.

Soft, familiar footsteps padded towards them.

"Auntie?" Kasumi intoned. "Uncle Saotome's stirring. . ."

"Oh. I'll see to him then."

Nodoka stood up and gently placed her hand on Ranma's head.

"I'm taking your father home with me tonight," she said. "The two of us need to have a very long talk."

Ranma looked up at her. Somehow, he felt that he needed to apologize to her for something, though he wasn't exactly sure for what.

"Okufuro. . ."

"I would also like to talk to you soon. Is that all right with you?"

"Y-Yeah. . ."

Nodoka smiled at him. "I'll see you then, son."

The slight scent of her perfume wafted to his nose as she walked back inside the house, the kettle in one hand, and the towels in another.

"Ranma-kun?"

He turned around to see Kasumi crouching down beside him. Her eyes were tired, but there was the familiar smile on her lips.

"Otousan would like to ask a favor from you."

Ranma sighed. What could it be this time?

"Yeah?"

"Would you please meet him at the cemetery behind the temple in thirty minutes?"

Cemetery? Ranma looked at Kasumi quizzically.

"Why would he want to meet me there?"

"He didn't say, but it seemed important."

It was a very unusual request, and it was something that he didn't really want to do. He didn't want to be far from Akane – especially not today when she had finally started responding to him again.

Kasumi sensed his reluctance. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she leaned closer to him.

"Don't worry about my sister. She'll still be here when you come back. We'll even have the window fixed by then, too."

"But Ayame's out and Akane's talking again and – "

"Ayame-san just called to check on Akane-chan. She said that after she submits her report, she'd be home as soon as she can. For the meantime, Tofu-sensei and I will look after her like we always do."

Ranma stared at her for a moment. If it were just him he would politely decline, but he knew that his fiancée would want him to at least humor her old man.

"Okay," he said in a subdued voice as he gave in and stood. "I'll just get dressed."

Kasumi smiled and followed suite.

"Thank you Ranma-kun."

He wondered what she was thanking him for as he walked backed inside the main house.

* * *

In the past, her brother would often visit her garden and ruin her flowers just to spite her, but he never did so again when one day three years ago, his legs erupted with awful, watering rashes after carelessly brushing past a very rare rose bush. Oh how she enjoyed seeing him writhe in pain as one of their servants dabbed the doctor's prescribed medicine on to his ugly wounds. It was actually quite a pity to hear him swear that nothing would ever make him return to that horrible place of crazy, man-chasing plants -- that dashed her hopes of ever seeing him again in such an amusing predicament.

She worried more about her rose bush than about her brother that day, for it was a very rare species that had been specially delivered from an unknown forest in Europe. It was actually a resilient plant that could stand sudden climate changes, but it could only grow on the decaying body of a certain kind of bird. Its roots would first feed on the animal's blood before clawing its way down into the soil. It literally feasted on death. And this was probably why the locals had called it "Hades' Rose".

Humming to herself, she placed another blossom into her now half full basket. The scent was strong and seductive, as if to call to passers by to come and admire them that they may be victims of its mere beauty. The poison of Hades' Rose was utterly potent – she had already seen the instantaneous damage it had caused on her brother's legs. Imagine what kind of damage it could do if it were to be ingested. . .

She smiled. Tendo Akane should be honored; after all she would be collecting the life-blood of more than a dozen of her most precious babies for her.

Another blossom fell with a precise snip.

Tendo had been the cause of trouble from the very beginning. She had stolen her prince even before she had the chance to meet him. The bitch. It was a well-known fact that Saotome Ranma belonged to no one but her. She could not fathom why Tendo, and all the other wretched whores that followed her beloved around, could not get that one simple detail through their thick skulls.

She sighed, feeling the petals with the tip of her fingers.

Ranma-sama was indeed the most beautiful man she had ever met. She still could remember the feel of his hard muscles as they pressed against her cheek at the time of their first meeting. His scent was more intoxicating than any other floral perfume – he smelled of wood and skin, of earth and man. The midnight blue of his eyes could pierce deeper than any other woodland thorn, and the tint of his hair was far blacker than any rose petal she had ever seen.

She momentarily held her breath, knowing that it had instinctively quickened at the mere thought of him. Oh how he had always seduced her. She had lusted after him the very first time she drowned in his gaze – she had never felt something so intense in her life before, and later the harsh fires of passion roared into an emotion that she had never had to deal with since the death of her mother.

Love.

Yes, she loved her Ranma-sama completely. She'd be anything for him – his wife, his maid, his whore – anything just to please him. He had given her hope that if she risked loving, she would be loved in return. Such fantasy of the two of them happy together was worth the attempt. She'd find appreciation tempered by pure affection in him – unlike that which her insane father had once shown and that her pathetic brother had never given. She would be loved – at long last she would be truly loved – but first she had to go about the dirty business of getting everybody out of their path.

Her hands moved through the bush, gently caressing the soft blossoms as if it were his skin.

Tendo would be the first unwilling receiver of Hades' Rose gift of eternal sleep. She was more than painfully aware of the fact that the goddamn bitch was who Ranma-sama truly loved. But what did she do to what he had offered her? Nothing. She was never thankful; she even abused him all the time – physically, mentally, emotionally – she had made him suffer just by merely existing.

That scoundrel. She didn't deserve such a man like him.

Carefully, she cut one final blossom and stood up to leave.

First was Tendo Akane. Then the Chinese bimbo, the bisexual cook, and that fucking pigtailed girl.

To be loved… Ah, how he would love her for this!

"Wait for me, Ranma-sama. Soon you will realize that only I am worthy of you, and it is only I that you could ever cherish."

Her laughter was bitterness manifested; yet it was soft and hollow, and it was far more frightening than the familiar mindless cackling that everybody had come to despise.

Amid the hallways of the mansion, Kuno Tatewaki felt the cold nail of a shiver claw down his spine.

* * *

Ryouga skidded to a halt as he reached the top of the stairs. He looked around and saw familiar-looking rooms.

He had been here before.

"Damn it!"

He made a go for the stairs once more, jumping over girl who had gone up after him. She made a gleeful squeal and he knew by the light sounds of her footsteps that she was after him still.

"Damn it!" He cussed once more. "Why doesn't she stop?! And why doesn't this place have a friggin' exit?!"

He kept on running, blind to the fact that he was going in circles.

After a few minutes, he found himself on top of the stairs again.

"Oh sh – "

Before he could even react, strong hands grabbed him from behind and a splash of water greeted his face.

He could feel his clothes slip of him even as frustration and hopelessness settled on his chest.

It was no use struggling against these weirdos.

"That is absolutely amaaa-aaazing!" Ukyo gushed, placing the pail down and poking his nose. "Just like Ran-chan."

Konatsu lifted the little black big in her hands. "I caught him for you, Ukyo-sama. I do hope you are pleased."

"Oh stop it, Konatsu. I told you I didn't like the '-sama'."

"Pardon me, Ukyo-sama."

"Ugh," she rolled her eyes even as they once again turned bright. "But I can't believe it! All this time you kept it a secret and I never found out!"

Ryouga had wanted to scream at her face, but being the gentleman he was he didn't. Besides, all that would ever come out would be squeaks and he bet that Ukyo would like that even more.

For the past two days, the okonomiyaki chef had tormented him by splashing him with cold water one minute, then hot water the next. She found it rather amusing that he changes into a pig, and she found it even more interesting that the only thing that remained of his clothes while he was in his cursed form was his bandana.

"Say, how does that happen?"

Ryouga sighed and shook his head like only a little black pig could.

"It's funny you know – it was on your head before the cold water and now it's around your neck.

When she's in one of her bizarre moods, Ukyo rambled. And boy, could she ramble.

"Does it ever come off? Or loosen at least? I mean your human head is bigger than your piggy-neck, isn't it?"

Piggy. How he hated that word.

"So Akane-chan doesn't know about this?"

It was unusual how Ukyo could jump from one topic to the next without missing a beat. Then again, maybe all girls could do the same. Girls are quite unusual, after all.

He felt Konatsu gently place him down on the floor and pat him on the head. (Honestly, he didn't like pats from cross-dressing freaks.) The effeminate ninja handed Ukyo a kettle of water.

"I think I hear a customer coming in," he said in a soft voice. "I'll see to it Ukyo-sama."

Ryouga followed him with his eyes as Konatsu daintily stepped down the stairs – now he silently pleaded him to stay and steal him away from the conversation.

"Let me guess," Ukyo cut his train of thought as she poured hot water on him. "She doesn't know, doesn't she."

"N-No."

The reversal of the curse left a funny sensation down his spine that made him want to wiggle. But he suppressed the feeling and quickly covered himself with his clothes.

Ukyo rolled her eyes again. "I've seen that before, Ryouga. And let me tell you, once you've seen one, you've seen 'em all."

He knew that there were implications to what she said, but he decided not to push the issue.

"Um – Ukyo-san I kinda need to. . ."

"Go dress in my room, silly boy."

He bolted inside and locked the door.

Why was it that of all people in Furinkan High that could've been hit by that stupid friskbee, it had to be him? It was exasperating how life constantly toyed on his poor tormented soul, setting him up in the most awkward and embarrassing situations. He could just imagine some snide god rolling all over the floor and laughing his head of at all his misfortunes.

He tightened the drawstrings of his trousers, frustrated at his plight. Just as he was about to pick up his shirt, a somewhat thoughtful voice came from outside.

"P-chan."

Ryouga roughly pulled open the door, almost tearing it from its hinges.

"Don't ever call me that!"

Ukyo batted her eyelashes at him almost innocently. "But you like it when Akane calls you P-chan. I've seen you cuddle up to her once or twice."

He snarled at her and gave her a look that told her to drop the subject.

"No wonder Ran-chan's always irritated at you."

His shoulders slumped and a sigh escaped his lips. He knew this talk was inescapable once he got into it.

"It's not my fault that I got this stupid curse. It was his. If only he didn't chicken out of that challenge – "

"Um, if I remember correctly, you were the one who got lost."

"It doesn't matter! He should've stayed there!"

Ukyo pouted at him, obviously vexed. "Whatever, piggy-boy."

The snarl returned and turned into a growl. He couldn't help but give her the satisfaction of being affected by such an ugly name.

"You could be sued for sexual harassment, you know. What with you sleeping with Akane without her knowing."

"I do NOT sexually harass her!"

"But you like it, don't you?"

"I – "

Not for the first time, he was at a loss of words.

"You shameless little – "

"I sleep with her as a pig!" He exclaimed. "And I am not the type who would take advantage of the situation even if I did sleep with her as a man!"

Ryouga seethed. His cheeks were red, and he did not know whether it was from embarrassment, or from the anger that came with the accusation. Ukyo reeled back.

"Ryouga – "

"Yes, I liked it," he continued softly. "Because finally I felt safe. Because I felt that I belonged somewhere. To someone."

Ukyo gazed at him sadly. "But honey, she loves the pet pig. Not the man."

"I know that," he said through clenched teeth. "Don't you think it has never occurred to me before? That's what makes it hard. I love her as a man but I couldn't even face her as a man. . ."

He paused, and the feeling of the world crashing over his head enveloped with familiarity.

"I belong to no one."

A long silence followed. It was truly his destiny to be toyed by the Fates and in the end be abandoned. He was to be alone. He would always be alone. Leaning on the doorframe, he felt the light mist on his arm slide against the worn-out wood, and somehow, it made him feel worse.

"You can never belong to anyone, Ryouga. . ."

He looked at her like a doomed man, even as she smiled wistfully at him.

". . . And I could never belong to anyone. I know that now. If only I found out about it sooner, I wouldn't have suffered such terrible heartaches. . . You couldn't -- and you shouldn't – give yourself all away. . . "

She brushed past him into her room, and handed him his shirt and the kettle. Leaning forward, she surprised him with a light kiss on the cheek.

"Share who you are but don't let anyone own you. You can only belong to yourself, Ryouga-kun. Think about that."

As she closed the door, he felt the warmth of her lips dig deep inside his being, her voice ringing clearly in her mind. Yet curiously, a different face from an almost far away story moved before his eyes.

". . .Akari."

He stared at her until her silence pierced his heart, and until her smile faded into the deeper doors of his memory.

* * *

It was quiet, as all cemeteries usually were.

The approaching footsteps from behind were faint, almost as faint as the youthful voice that whispered the name on the marker without any surprise.

"Tendo Kimiko."

Soun slightly smiled and shifted to the side. He didn't expect him to come, but he was glad that he did.

"Kimi-chan, this is Saotome Ranma, our little Akane's future husband." He motioned towards her, seeing her in his mind's eye. She was sitting quite prettily, a playful smile dancing on the corners of her lips. His smile grew bigger at the sight of her, and with pride he said, "Ranma, this is my wife."

A part of him anticipated the boy's denials of his relationship with his daughter, but the only thing that came was a sigh. With unreadable eyes, the boy solemnly knelt before the grave and respectfully bowed.

"I am pleased – no, most honored – I am most honored to finally meet you – " He left it hanging, his words tumbling over phrases that right conduct required.

Kimiko softly laughed at his apparent discomfort.

"I am most honored to finally meet you," Ranma repeated. "And I am – I am – Old man, why did you bring me here?"

The boy gave a tired little moan as he straightened up and looked at him, his young face sullen and confused.

"Why, to meet my wife of course," Sound replied. "You haven't met her yet, have you?"

Ranma shook his head, almost more to clear it that to answer his question. "I just think it's not the right time –"

"Now is as good a time as any."

"Yes, but Akane's been talking again and I should be with her and only her and I just don't -- "

He stopped short, looking away.

The expression on his face told the man that it wasn't his unconscious admission that was bothering him. It was as if he didn't even realize the wealth of meaning behind his words.

On any other day, Soun would've called for a wedding. On any other day too, Kimiko would have gaily applauded before seconding the motion.

But not today. And probably, not anytime soon.

"What were you about to say?"

"Nuthin'. Forget it."

"Go on, Ranma."

The boy gave out another sigh. It seemed that sighing was the only thing that he kept on doing recently.

"I just don't think that I should be here."

Soun gave him a small smile. "Aa. I understand. I'm sorry to have taken your time away from Akane – "

"It's not just that!"

"Then what else?"

"I shouldn't be here – in front of her." He carelessly waved a hand to his wife.

And then he understood.

"Ranma, are you saying that you are ashamed to face her?"

He didn't answer; instead he proceeded to stare at some far away point.

Worry seemed to move across Kimiko's face as she hesitantly leaned forward to meet her future son-in-law's eyes.

"So young, yet so full of self-reproach," she almost whispered.

"I know how you feel."

His wife turned at his voiced revelation, and even if she had heard it countless of times before, her gentle features still mirrored the pain of hearing it for the first time.

"I've felt the same way."

Biting his lower lip, the boy still refused to look at him. Instead he stared at the fists that rested on his lap.

"I love my wife," he went on, gazing at her face brought back by his memory. "And I did everything that I could to make her happy. But when she got sick, I couldn't do anything at all."

Kimiko shook her head in profound sadness.

"When I voiced out my shame, she just swatted my arm and said, 'Soun you big oaf. Getting myself sick isn't anybody's fault.' But still I went on blaming myself for being so useless."

He could feel the tears spilling down his cheeks.

"I knew she was slowly slipping away from me, but there was nothing for me to do but to watch her do so."

Gazing at his wife, he saw his darkest days unravel in her eyes. She could feel his regret. Her hands caressed his cheeks but try as she might, he knew that she would never be able to wipe away his tears.

"Ranma, when Akane was in trouble, what did you do?"

The boy stole a glance from him and looked away once more.

"I – I tried to save her."

"And now she's still alive."

"But it wasn't enough."

"For me its more than enough," he said, reaching out to touch Kimiko's lips, but only feeling stone. "I've already lost my wife. I don't want to lose my daughter."

Ranma looked up at him, and he ran his arm over his eyes.

"You brought her home to me, son. And for that, Kimiko and I will be forever grateful."

She looked at him sadly at the sound of her name, and with a small smile, faced the young boy who, was now gazing at her.

His eyes were still dark and skeptical, and Soun knew that it would take more than his words to make him believe. Somehow, he knew only his daughter's awakening could heal the wounded boy.

"Kimi-chan," he softly intoned. "Akane-chan will be opening her eyes soon and then everything will be okay, right?"

Kimiko gazed at him and gave him a beautiful smile.

"That's good to know."

Soun breathed in deeply, smelling his wife's perfume in the freshness of the cool air. She giggled softly, and turned her attention back to the boy who sat before her.

Ranma was looking at her with a strange, uncertain expression. He reached out hesitantly, and for a moment Soun believed that he actually could see her too, if not only for the fact that it was her carved name that he was reaching out for.

Yet Kimiko was unfazed by this, and with a loving smile she collected the boy in her arms and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Hey. . ."

His voice was quiet, almost reverent. There was a sudden calmness that had enveloped his daughter's fiancé, a sort of temporary peace that settled within him. Soun knew the feeling, and he knew that his wife was the reason for this.

"Is it okay if – if we stayed here for a few more minutes?" He asked as he retrieved his hand from the marker to look at him once more. "Just so I could tell Akane that I've finally met her mother."

In his mind's eye, he saw Kimiko's eyes twinkle with delight, as her image slowly faded back into his memory.

Soun smiled at the gray marker, then turned back to the boy, knowing that somewhere deep in that broken facade was the man he used to be.

"If you wish it, Ranma," he softly said. "You may stay."

* * *

She sat up straight and painfully proper, peering over her teacup with only her eyes to find that it was already empty. She didn't bother refilling it – instead she looked across the table where another teacup sat cold, and as she could fathom it, still half-full.

"Don't you like the tea, husband?"

The man flinched at the slight edge in her voice.

"The t-tea's – ah – perfect," he stammered out. "Y-Yeah, it is."

He was uncomfortable; she could see it. She was a bit uncomfortable too, what with straining to sit up so as to look decorous, dignified, and utterly detached. She was always like this everytime he did something rather stupid -- straight and beautiful, much like the katana that rested on the tatami just beside her.

"Genma," she said rather sternly. "We need to talk."

"That's why I'm here." He eyed the sword nervously. "W-Why is that thing there, hon?"

"Because I want it there."

Silence. Let him toast a little, she thought grimly. He owed her and his son that much.

"Ah. . . Nodoka -- "

"Dear husband," she gave a pretentious little wave to cut him off. "I've noticed that given Ranma and Akane's present situation, you've been rather insensitive to the boy's feelings. Why?"

Her question sounded like it had been plucked straight out of an attorney's mouth, and she saw Genma flinch once more.

"I haven't been insensitive – "

"Ranma said so."

"That ingrate of a son," he tiredly spat out. "I haven't been insensitive. He's the one who's gotten soft."

"You couldn't – and shouldn't – blame him for being so."

"But he's supposed to be a man, Nodoka. A man among men. Isn't that what you wanted?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, and that's precisely what he had tried to prove. Did he not kill for Akane?"

"Did I not almost kill for you?"

The question had taken her off guard, but Saotome Nodoka wasn't one to be easily rattled in such situations.

"What does that have to do with it," she asked plainly.

"If you hadn't stopped me, I would've crushed that damn guy's face," he continued, deliberately ignoring what she had just said. "I almost lost you then, wife. And I wasn't about to let that happen."

Nodoka stared at him through half-lidded eyes. She painfully knew what he was talking about.

Genma wasn't the nicest of persons, and because of that he had made a lot of enemies. It was already common for her to hear people challenging him – or her if he wasn't around. She was very proficient with the sword after all, since she had mastered her family's ancient technique. It was only Genma who had defeated her even without a sword in hand, and defeating her said a lot.

It was one afternoon when she was six months pregnant that a man with a forgettable name rapped on her door. Genma had run out to buy her the peaches that she had been constantly craving for, so she asked the man to wait. But wait he did not – he began spewing about her husband's misdeeds to his own wife – something that his perverted old master seemed to have had a hand in. She was used to this and so it didn't bother her, but the man just suddenly went on a rampage, saying that if Genma could do it to another person's wife, then he would also do the same to his.

Being with child almost made her helpless against his attacks. She wasn't afraid for her safety but for her son's and she fought as only a mother could fight, until she fell under him wounded, until the man disgustedly loomed over her, and until Genma arrived, his cry of rage as powerful as his own punches.

If she didn't hold him back, he would've killed the man.

"I still don't know what that has to do with the present situation," Nodoka said, hiding her uneasiness by pouring herself another cup of tea.

"It has everything to do with it!" He said leaning towards her. "I know how he feels!"

She calmly sipped the warm liquid, deliberating what to say next. When her husband was in his argumentative mood, he could be quite stubborn.

"It's not that I'm belittling your emotions, but I don't think you do."

Genma looked at her, confused and obviously irritated.

"Nodoka, I was – "

"Ranma feels awfully guilty," she quietly said. "Because he feels he had failed Akane."

"I almost failed you."

"Almost, dearest. Don't you see the difference?"

Genma sat back, thinking of something to else to say.

"Can't you see," she prodded on. "He loves Akane. You've always wanted him to do so, and now that he does, he's acting like any normal person would when something happens to a loved one."

"Precisely, he's being soft!"

"Wouldn't you be the same if something did happen to me that day?"

"I – " he hesitated. I -- I would've gone up a mountain and – and -- trained!"

Nodoka slightly smiled, swallowing back the laughter that bubbled in her throat at her husband's futile attempt to win the argument.

"Reeaally, now. Are you sure you wouldn't be wallowing in utter despair?"

"Stop teasing, woman."

This time she laughed aloud.

"Yes, I'd be sad," he said over the sound of her voice. "I'd be so sad that I'd be angry, and I'd be so angry that I'd go away and train."

Her laughter died down and she stared at him.

"Yes, you'd do that."

"I would. And I think Ranma should too."

"I admit that our son has gotten a bit weak," she said, slightly relenting. She noticed the victorious look on Genma's face and raised a hand before he could say anything else. "But it's because he's young. And he needs time. All these years he had no one but you and – "

There was a slight bitterness in her mouth at the recollection of the fact that she couldn't be there for him.

"He had no one but you," she repeated, blinking away the memories. "And this is the first time he had finally learned to care about someone apart from you, himself, and martial arts."

"I doubt if he gives a rat's ass about me, but I do know that he cares a great deal about you."

She smiled at his effort to ease her pain. "Yes, I know he does, but he hasn't had a real home, real friends, or a real girlfriend in all those years, has he?"

Genma sighed. "Nah… But I've fixed him up with – "

"With half of the female population of Japan," she sternly finished. "It's something that I don't approve of, but that's for another time. The point of the matter is, you have to understand the boy. Don't force him into something that he still can't do."

"But he has always been fighter. Now he's like – like – like the Master without his panties."

Nodoka glared at the comparison, but kept silent about it.

"As a mother I do need to speak to him about it too."

"Yeah, maybe you should. It's been months and he's still depressed. Training is the only thing that I could offer him."

"I know."

Knowing that this was the end of their discussion, she stood up to retrieve their cups.

"Your tea's gone cold."

"I'd rather have sake."

"Not tonight."

"Nodoka?"

She glanced at him as he gingerly held her hand. His strong, calloused fingers shyly ran over her own, and he gazed at her with a strange expression.

"Nodoka, you – you make me – you make me want to be a – a better man."

Her eyes softened at his admission. She knew that he was clumsy when it came to sentimentality, but she also knew that he always tried his best.

She lifted her hand to touch his face and lightly kissed him on his forehead.

"I love you too, you silly ass."

* * *

Touching the stone marker, Soun finally stood up to leave.

It was already late in the afternoon. Ranma had gone early on, politely excusing himself and pensively walking out of the cemetery with his hands in his pockets and his head bent low.

It was understandable that he needed the time alone.

The air was warm, and it smelled of soil and grass. He thought of how Kimiko had loved days like these; back then they would usually go out on afternoon walks, and as she told him stories upon stories about anything and everything, he would silently marvel at how the golden sunlight beautifully contrasted the color of her hair and heightened the shade of her eyes. . .

Walking past other markers, it seemed that Kimiko's neighbors also had visitors – there were offerings of food on some and fresh flowers on others. Looking farther, he noticed a couple of women kneeling down a relatively new grave, offering nothing but their silence.

He stopped on his tracks when he realized who one of them was.

_Ayame-san?_

The women had their backs to him, and as quietly as he could, Soun approached them.

"Ano, Ayame-san?"

Her eyes showed surprise as she sharply turned around.

"Tendo-san!"

"Aya-chan," the other woman softly intoned as she slowly stood up. "Who is this man? A friend of your brother's?"

"Okaasan, he's – "

"I'm Tendo Soun," he said bowing politely. "I am the grateful father of Akane, whom Ayame here has taken great care of. . ."

The old woman's gently eyes widened in slight surprise. "So, it is you – "

Soun quizzically looked at her then back at her daughter's nurse. It was rather queer how the two acted but as he rested his gaze on the name on the marker before of them, Soun bit back a shocked cry and understood their following silence.

* * *

"I WILL find you, my little Tatchi!"

Kuno rounded a corner and pressed himself to the wall. His sweat-drenched hair stuck to his forehead, and he irritatingly brushed it away from his eyes.

"Taaaatchi!"

The horrible sound of steel sliding against steel echoed through the hallway as the man came closer. Clutching his bokuto, Kuno braced himself for the worst.

"AHA!"

It was the only thing that his demented father could say before the kendoist lashed out, his scream blending with the loud crash that came as his weapon moved to maim and disarm in one blow. Then he ran away as fast as he could, leaving the man to moan over his injury and his broken shears. But it wasn't victory for him – it was far from it, for Kuno knew that his attack would only enrage him, and rage made his father sickeningly sweeter and deadlier.

It was for this reason that his ancestral home was renovated in order to accommodate more mazes and traps. Shortly after his father's dementia, these were built into the century-old woodwork in the wide area that separated their rooms. It was Sasuke who had thought that the alienation of the Kuno patriarch from his children was healthier for them and for himself, since it was he who always got hurt whenever any of the family members would inevitably meet.

It was a good plan. But no plan was entirely foolproof.

That was why Kuno Tatewaki now huddled behind the bushes of their expansive backyard. He had once more accidentally bumped into his father that early afternoon, and he had been running away from him since.

He would never understand why he tortured him so.

He clutched the bokuto closer to him, and it was only then that he realized that it was broken due to the sheer force of his last attack.

The splintered wood bit into his hand. How could he fight with such a measly thing?

Then there were footsteps. Silently moving back, he tightly clutched the broken weapon, leveling it before his eyes in readiness to strike.

A crouched figure broke from the greens, and Kuno sprang into action, only to hold himself back at the last second.

"Dachi?!"

A cloying scent wafted to his nose and sharp eyes glared at him from underneath a dark cloak.

"Be careful with that thing you wave around, Oniisama. I wouldn't want to shove it down your throat," she thought for a moment then smiled. "Then again maybe I do. . ."

"What – What art thou doing here?"

"I was on my way out."

But why pass through here, he questioned silently. Kuno took a step back, his head suddenly feeling lighter as her sister's perfume assaulted his senses once more. Somehow, he knew the scent was very familiar. . .

"Yet another of thy dark schemes – "

"I am going to visit a friend."

"Visit? And what in heaven's name is that horribly thick scent?"

His sister's eyes narrowed a bit as she pulled her cloak tightly around her.

And then it hit him.

"Dachi! Thou art not going to – "

"OTOUSAMA!" Her shrill scream drowned out his words. "I've found him! Tatchi's over here!"

"NO!"

He reached for her, but she had already slipped away from his grasp, her maniacal laughter echoing throughout the compound as she deftly leapt over the wall.

Kuno stumbled to his feet. He had to go warn the Tendos.

"Akane-san!"

Blindly he ran, rounding corner after corner, feeling the roughness of the broken bokken chafe his hand. He had no time for games. No time for tricks. No time for –

"Otousama!"

Fear froze Kuno as gleaming blades blocked his path and slowly moved towards him.

"Tatchi has been a very naughty boy," a cold voice rasped from the shadows. "A very naughty boy indeed. . ."

* * *

The men who replaced the glass on Akane's windows had left a few minutes earlier, and now, there were only the three of them in the room – the doctor, the patient, and her sister.

He took these into consideration, and consciously stood as far away as he could be from her.

Through the months of his patient's indisposition, he had spent more time in the Tendo household than he had done so in years. On days that he visited, he had taken great pains to concentrate on his work and _only_ on his work, not on anything or anyone else.

Yet being in their house, no matter how what he did, of course he couldn't help but always see _her._

He gulped down a lump in his throat and watched her every move like a cornered prey.

People considered him the best chiropractor in Nerima, and a chosen few knew of his skill as a martial artist. While some admired him even as some feared him, all of them considered him great.

He wondered how they would react if they knew that the "great" Ono Tofu was afraid of "that sweet young lady" named Tendo Kasumi.

Yes, she frightened him. He had admitted that to himself a long time ago. She frightened him because of what she could do to him. She was the only one who could unwittingly shatter his calm and control with but a single smile. The sound of her voice would turn the simplest of statements into spells that bound him and sent him to a place where he knew only pure bliss. And when she touched him – dear gods, those moments – he knew that there was nothing more than he could ask for.

Yes, she was that dangerous.

That was why he had tried to avoid her for as long as Akane was still in her slumber. Yes – he loved her still, and he had always tried to be more than courteous to her. But he couldn't risk any loss of concentration and control as a doctor while he took care of his patient. Akane to him was a little sister, and he cared for her too much to make mistakes. And in her condition, any mistake could be fatal.

But now, he was stuck in this room, with _her_ of all people, and there was nothing he could do about it since Ayame was out – _she seems to disappear more often than usual_ -- and since he couldn't even control his feet to walk away.

"Tofu-sensei?"

He stiffened at the sound of her voice even as he watched her smoothen her sister's covers.

"Y-Yes?"

"Would you want something to eat?" She said, standing to her full height and clasping her hands on her apron. "I could prepare something for you."

He tried as hard as he could to tear his gaze from her.

"P-Please don't bother. It – It's okay."

"There's mochi and tea in the kitchen, and I really wouldn't mind. . ."

There was something in her eyes – something that almost begged to be accepted – and he had no other choice but to dumbly nod.

Kasumi half-smiled.

"All right then."

But she didn't leave. He stared at her feet for almost a full minute, before slowly walking towards him.

His heart was in his throat. He couldn't stop himself from looking at her, from studying the way she moved – how the light played with the hues of her hair, how her soft sigh echoed throughout the room. . .

She was beautiful. No, more than beautiful – she was ethereal.

He was so full of her and it frightened him so.

"Tofu-sensei?"

He blinked and almost jumped in surprise when he realized that she already stood before him.

"Ka – Ka – Ka – "

His mind was a whirlpool of disjointed thoughts, and he knew that it was already to late to get away.

She had cast her spell on him once again.

"Tofu-sensei," she whispered. "I – I just noticed that – you seem to be more – uneasy around me –

ever since – Akane-chan's accident."

She spoke in such a soft, halting voice, and somehow in his daze, he heard the undertones of melancholy.

"I appreciate how you – try to be your – normal self around me but –" she chose her words carefully, seemingly unsure of what to say next. "Have I – Have I done something wrong – that you should be – uncomfortable with me?"

_Done something wrong?!_ He thought wildly. _How can the most beautiful, kind-hearted, gentle woman in the whole world do anything wrong?!_

Facing her now, he felt the tight reign of control disappear in the pools of her eyes. He wanted to lash out – to pull her into an embrace and whisper into her ears all the things that he had always wanted to say.

But his jaw went slack, and before he could even stop himself, he heard the words softly fall from his lips –

"I'm afraid of you."

The surprise and the following hurt in her eyes pulled him out of his stupor, and he knew right away that he had said something gravely wrong.

"I – I see. . ."

"Kasumi-san I didn't mean that I – "

But she had lowered her gaze and was slowly moving away from him, almost as painfully submissive as a doe.

"Kasumi-san please. . ."

"I will see to your refreshments, Tofu-sensei." She spoke as if there was a smile on her lips, but Tofu knew that there were also tears in her eyes.

He had hurt her.

Before he could even ask her to stay, she was gone, and he could hear her soft footsteps as she flew down the stairs.

Tofu stood alone in the room, staring at the floor. Thoughts of losing her forever danced around his head like demons, and he felt so helpless, so pathetic, so –

Angry.

He hit the wall with a tightly clenched fist. THIS would NOT do. He was not about to lose the woman that he had always loved to his stupidity and cowardice. He HAD to do something.

Breathing deeply in, he calmed himself and cleared his mind – it was as if he was preparing himself for battle. And maybe it truly was a battle, one that he wasn't planning on losing.

"I'm sorry for hurting your sister, Akane," he said in a soft voice as he slowly approached the sleeping girl and held her hand. "But trust me when I say this – I love her more than my life. I hope you believe me."

He gave her a brotherly kiss on her forehead and walked towards the door. He was going to explain everything, to set things right once and for all. Warm air from the hallway seeped through the crack as he turned and pulled the knob.

Then Tofu paused, and quietly gazed at the clear, newly-replaced windows.

Shadows moved on the floor as the door closed with a click.

* * *

The room was finally empty.

Kodachi smiled.

Tightly clutching the tiled roof's edge, she flipped forward with silent grace, one hand deftly crossing over the other as she turned in mid-fall to face Tendo Akane's locked windows. It only took one hairpin and less than a minute to get them open. Old curtains billowed around her as she swung inside in the softest flurry of petals, disturbing nothing on the study desk that she perched on.

She looked around and saw what she came for.

Her smile turned feral.

This was going to be easier than she thought.

Silently, she padded towards the bed. With machines softly beeping around her, Akane looked so helpless it was pitiful. For a moment, Kodachi actually felt something stir in her heart, making her reach out and caress the unconscious girl's cheek.

"My dearest rival," she intoned. "It's actually a shame that you're here, vulnerable on your back, utterly indisposed. . ."

Then the moment passed and she sharply laughed under hear breath.

"Too bad -- You won't be able to attend my wedding to Ranma-sama."

A syringe came out from the folds of her cloak and a thick cloying smell slowly filled the room as she removed the cap.

"Don't worry my dear, I am actually doing you a favor," she whispered as she watched the black liquid drip from the needle's tip. "You need not suffer anymore. And you need not make Ranma-sama suffer either."

Gently, she reached out for the tube that was connected to Akane's arm.

"Sayonara, bitch."

She set the needle on its mark.

"Excuse me – "

Kodachi spun around and a rose flew from her hand, burying itself on the wall behind her. Taking on a ready stance, she seethed, her senses heightened by irritation and anger.

"Who DARES interrupt the Black Rose?!"

The shadows seemed to move, and between one blinking and the next, a man stood before her.

"Good afternoon," he said in an amiable voice. "And who might you be?"

Kodachi growled softly, taking on a ready stance.

"The Black Rose needn't answer to any one spineless enough not to spit out his name."

"My name. . . " The voice was calm, almost amused, and it grated her nerves even more. ". . .is Ono Tofu," he said, stepping into the dim lighting. "I'm the Tendo's family doctor."

She looked at him from head to foot, assessing his character. She recalled him to be that chiropractor who owned a clinic down the street. Oh yes, and he was the same lunatic whom she once she saw in the park dancing around with a skeleton.

Kodachi relaxed her stance and chuckled.

It would be better for her to just play along. He's of no consequence after all.

"I am Kuno Kodachi, also known as the Black Rose. Be honored that I leave you my name."

The doctor smiled. "Oh, Miss. I most definitely I am."

She sniffed. At least the boor had manners.

"I am Akane's – friend," she continued, glancing at the bedridden girl. "I'm just here for a visit."

"I see. . ." He said, his eyes unreadable behind his glasses. "Then may I ask why you had to pass through the window? And why you have a syringe full of Hades' Rose extract? Oh, just out of curiosity, I assure you."

The shadows in the room seemed to lean closer. Suddenly there was no Tofu anymore – only dark creatures bearing his face, taunting her, laughing at her, calling her foolish names.

Kodachi bit her tongue in anger until she tasted blood.

And something in her snapped.

* * *

to be continued. . . 


	6. Slipping Away

**!EDITED! July 30, 2005**

Not much has changed -- only a few paragraphs that I felt needed better writing.

Be posting Part 7 really soon! Thank you for all your comments, I truly appreciate them!

- Ember

* * *

Author's Note:

Not wanting to die an unnatural death of having jell-o shoved down my throat and jam stuck between my toes, I am posting a new chapter in less than a year. /hides behind a desk to avoid random objects thrown at her direction/

By far this is the HARDEST chapter that I've written. I do hope that you will enjoy it though, albeit the OOCness that might be apparent in the following paragraphs. /rereads chapter/ Oh dear, it _is _quite apparent, hehehe. Do forgive me for that. Call it artistic license or something. /avoids LARGER objects thrown at her direction/

Note that I am writing this fanfic based on both the anime and the manga. I more or less took the play of emotions that both presented and basically "heightened" them – meaning love has turned into passion, anger into rage, sadness into depression, and silliness into insanity. (Yup, that's as dark as it could get.) Ranma's utter depression I based on the ending of the manga, that scene where he held an almost lifeless Akane in his arms.

About the multiple storylines – I know that it could get really confusing (actually, sometimes I myself get confused), but since there are so many characters in the series, it would seem rather unusual if I only focused on, say, Ranma and Akane, with such a complicated storyline. Fear not though, for I would try as much as I can to connect everything at the end. Or something.

So, will this story end anytime soon? Yes it will. If everything goes according to plan, I only have -- /counts/ -- around four chapters more to go, that including the epilogue.

Anyway, I would like to thank all those who commented – I couldn't believe that in five chapters this story has gotten 83 of them! All your suggestions and criticisms have been noted, and trust me I do take what you say about the things that I write seriously. After all, a lot of you know more than I do about the series and about good grammar. Special thanks to Jo (Palmtree) who proofread the first part of this chapter.

Again, please pardon the typos and whatever grammatical errors I might've missed.

Oh, and would anyone know how to make a webpage? I'm planning to make my own sometime soon.

Well, I won't stall you anymore. Enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: Ranma ½ and all its characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi. All hers. But the story belongs to me. Any unauthorized copying, lending, or distribution without the author's consent is punishable by law. Violators shall be subjected to investigation by police agencies and to criminal prosecution. Then again, I might just throw a tantrum.

* * *

Lunar Ember Presents

A Ranma ½ Fanfiction

**WITHOUT HER**

**

* * *

**

**Part 6: Slipping Away**

"_On the last day I took her where the wild roses grow_

_She lay on the bank, the wind light as a thief_

_And I kissed her goodbye, said: 'All beauty must die'_

_And I bent down and planted a rose between her teeth"_

_- Marc Seales_

_

* * *

_

Kuno screamed and threw all his rage and fear into that one desperate strike. He saw nothing. He heard nothing. He felt nothing.

Then time pierced through the pause, and there echoed a wicked slash and sharp crack. A sudden animal keening assaulted his senses.

Kuno opened his eyes before he realized that he had shut them tight. He held back a gasp even as he involuntarily retreated from the figure crouched before him.

A deep gash ran from his father's left forearm to his wrist. It was grotesquely bended, and the young man could fathom the tip of a bone peeking from the broken skin.

On the ground lay the shears, useless and bloodied.

"Master! Oh dear me, what has happened!"

Sasuke appeared beside him, as other omnitsu came out from walls and rooftops. But he almost paid them no head – the howling of the man before him was the only thing that filled him, and he hated it.

He had never hurt his father as much he did today.

"We should call an ambulance!"

"Oh sir, don't move! There's so much blood…"

"Tatewaki-sama! You're bleeding too!"

Kuno blinked and shied away from Sasuke's inspection.

"No. Don't."

"But Master – "

"See to my father. I musn't tarry – Tendo Akane is in peril!"

"Tatewaki-sama wait -- !"

He heard Sasuke telling the driver to get the car ready, but he was already running as fast as he could out of that infernal place. He felt the warmth of his own blood crawling down his face even as the cool of the wind comforted him. He flew past the gates onto the streets of Nerima, escaping the haunting sounds of his father's agony, and filling his thoughts with Akane's safety.

* * *

Ranma knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into the house. 

"Kasumi?"

"Hello Ranma. I gather you've met up with Otousan?"

"Yeah," he absently answered, looking towards the stairs. "Who's with Akane?"

The woman seemed tired and pale. "Ano, Tofu-sensei was – "

A sudden scream echoed throughout the house and in a blinking, Ranma stood in front of his fiancée's bedroom.

"AKANE!"

Shock froze him on the spot.

Animal screams came from Kodachi; gone was the grace from her dance-like attacks -- there was only the rough violence of sheer anger and hatred. Rose petals slashed the air, moving as madly as the female eyes that saw nothing else but the opponent.

Tofu.

In the years of his residence in Nerima, it was only then that Ranma witnessed the true skill of the doctor. Tofu fought like air, or like darkness – seemingly there but at the same time somewhere else. Yet even with such dexterity he could tell that he was holding back. His movements were minimal and precise, as if in contrast to Kodachi's display of brute deftness. His eyes showed nothing but calm and focus, and one glance from him told Ranma that the man had everything under control.

But even as he respected the doctor's abilities, he was not about to leave his fiancée at the mercy of the battle.

He was surprised at his own calmness as he silently padded into the room and stood beside Akane's bed, just as Kodachi tumbled backwards and crouched on ready with her back to him. He heard her growling - apparently, in all her madness, she did not notice him arrive.

"Kodachi," he whispered without emotion.

The woman stiffened, and turned around to meet his gaze in a flurry of silk and petals.

"Ranma-sama," she breathed, her voice suddenly losing its edge. "Oh, you have come! You have come for me!"

He caught her wrists before she touched his face and he eyed her dispassionately. "What are you doing here?"

She didn't seem to hear him. With a sigh, she nestled against his chest.

Ranma felt anger and disgust slowly rising in him. He grasped her shoulders and pushed her away.

"What are you doing here. Answer me. Now."

As if waking from a dream, she replied. "I am here to bestow upon you one of the greatest gifts of all. . ."

"Gift?"

"Your freedom, my love."

It was almost useless talking to a lunatic like her. Trying very hard to keep his temper in check, he threw a questioning glance towards Tofu, who raised a syringe in his hand.

"Hades' Ro -- "

"SHUT UP!"

Kodachi spun around and screamed, lashing out her ribbon, the razor-silk falling in a deadly arc towards the doctor –

who effortlessly caught it in one hand.

"We've had enough, Miss."

Tofu sharply pulled and the shocked gymnast lunged forward and fell on the floor.

Ranma squinted at Tofu in utter irritation and confusion.

"Hades' – WHAT!"

"Hades' Rose extract," he finished. Then, as if unsure of whether to go on or not, he whispered, "Poison."

Realization dawned upon Ranma, chilling him and scalding him at the same time.

Slowly, he turned his gaze towards the woman.

"Poison, Kodachi?"

She looked at him as the dream surrounded her again. "Oh Ranma-sama. . ."

"Poison," he said as he knelt before her, surprised at the gentleness of his own voice. "You were going to kill her, weren't you?"

"Yes," she nodded, seemingly unaware of the graveness of her answer as a small smile touched her lips. "Yes, and afterwards, you would be free to love me as much as you want. . ."

"Oh Kodachi. . ."

He did not know what made him reach out to cup her cheek. He felt her yield to his touch as his hand slowly moved from her face down to her bare throat.

"You and your silly notions."

There was sudden emptiness inside him, and it ate all rage and anger and fury. It was the kind of emptiness that knew only the quiet fluttering of the pulse beneath his hand as it felt its rhythm slowly quickening in time to the lazy tightening of his grip around the soft flesh.

"Ra – Ranma-sama. . .?"

"Why, Kodachi? Why did you want to kill her," he asked with a steady voice that was not his own. "She's done you no harm. . ."

"Ranma-sa – sama," Kodachi coughed. "You're choking me -- "

"All she did was to be with me –"

"But I'm HERE! I WANT to be with you too! I – Ranma-sa – ack!"

He heard her gasp. From a distance, he heard someone say, "Let her go!"

But he paid no heed. His grip tightened.

"She cared about me Kodachi. And she still does."

He felt the soft resistance of her windpipe as the circle of his fingers slowly denied it of air. Her frenzied hands started moving over his own. Marveling at the sudden vulnerability of the woman before him, he wondered how far he could go.

"Ranma let her go NOW!"

"Akane cares about me."

"I LOVE YOU!"

"But I love her."

Her hands suddenly stopped their incessant clawing. It was as if somebody erased the dream from her eyes, and all that remained were broken memories of a sad nightmare, pieces of which were slowly sliding down her cheeks.

"Ranma-sama. . ."

"I love Akane."

He noticed that for the very first time, Kuno Kodachi stared at him without madness in her eyes.

"Why can you not love me?"

She spoke softly as she leaned into the force of his hand, giving up her battle for breath.

"RANMA!"

It wasn't the voice that made him loosen his grasp. It was the sudden wonder of it all -- momentarily he marveled at the power he had and the destruction he could cause with it. Then when the surge of it passed, he silently questioned who between the two of them was truly insane.

"DACHI!"

There was a flurry of movement – blood, petals, voices – and then he saw Nabiki standing by the door as Kasumi hovered over Akane. Tofu kneeled beside him without a word, and Ranma gazed at the bloody Kuno Tatewaki who was holding the gasping woman his arms.

For the first time, Ranma saw utter fear and dread in the kendoist's face as he looked up at him and demanded, "Saotome! What were thou going to do to mine sister!"

A small foggy voice at the back of his head wanted to ask what the hell happened to him again, but the first coherent thing that came out of his mouth was, "She tried to kill my fiancée."

Conflicting emotions moved in Kuno's eyes, even as blood slowly tricked down his lashes, making him squint and look away.

"I – I fathom that I should not have told her about Akane-san. . ."

Ranma regarded him expressionlessly.

"Maybe."

Kuno stared at him with both resentment and remorse, until his gaze fell on the woman who rested on the bed; soon the only thing that moved in his eyes was regret.

"Saotome Ranma, I – I – "

Pride was swallowed. Defeat passed through clenched teeth.

"I ask for thine forgiveness."

The room was quiet for a while, save for the machines' soft beeping and Kodachi's ragged breathing.

The great Kuno Tatewaki? Asking for his forgiveness? The small foggy voice in his mind exclaimed in amazement, but Ranma ignored it, and he found himself slowly shaking his head.

"I cannot give you that. As much as I cannot give what your sister asks of me."

The kendoist slowly lowered his gaze, absently wiping the blood that now moved down his neck.

"I see. And I truly cannot blame thee…"

Yet even at the wake of the void that sought to swallow his humanity, Ranma felt something move in his chest – it was something akin to warmth, alien to him it seemed, yet there all the same.

"Maybe. . ."

Kuno tiredly looked up.

"Maybe. . . I'll learn forgiveness again when Akane wakes up."

The two stared at each other, and it was as if the years of trivial bickering almost completely vanished in the silence that settled between them. Neither one was master to the other, and in the midst of loss and tragedy, both found the common ground that lay between one unspoken word and the next.

Kuno then nodded with an understanding that nobody had thought him capable of, and turned his attention to the woman on his lap.

"Dachi. . .?"

The gasping had finally subsided. As if in disgust at the sound of her name on his lips, Kodachi pushed herself away from her brother.

"It's a miracle that you escaped Otousama yet again, Tatchi," she said, dusting the parts of her clothing that had touched his skin. Her voice was cold – so different from her quiet mewing only moments ago as Ranma literally held her life in his grasp.

"For what thou has almost done," Kuno whispered, "it is also a miracle that Saotome has kept thee alive –"

"YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME DIE THEN!"

Kodachi stood up, carelessly running her arm over her eyes. "If I could never get Ranma-sama's love, then maybe I could've gotten something that was at least akin to it if you hadn't come!"

Ranma watched as Kuno was slowly drained of all his strength and will. It was probably the blood loss, he thought. Or Kodachi's words. Or maybe he was just tired of it all, much like he was.

"Very well." The man's voice showed no resistance whatsoever, and it seemed to unnerve most of the people in the room. "What was it that thou hast wanted?"

Whatever it was that laced Kuno's voice, it failed to call upon his sister's sensibility. Tears once more slid down Kodachi's pale cheeks but this time, she didn't bother wiping them away.

"I wanted the most peaceful of slumbers, with the feel of my beloved's gentle hand on my skin," she whispered. "If no one will love me, at least I could've had that – BUT EVEN OF THAT YOU DENIED ME!"

A soft early evening breeze blew through the window, and dark rose petals gently moved across the floor, circling their mistress' legs in a show of comfort.

"Thou can have me, Dachi."

The woman stared at his brother through her tears, her eyes questioning, hoping, and disbelieving.

She laughed.

"You? YOU!" Kodachi sliced the air with her hand. "What use will I have of YOU! Do you now wish for an incestuous relationship -- your sister bedding with you!"

She mocked him as only the Black Rose could, yet through her insane laughter came his soft reply –

"No. I just wish to love thee as I always have, and to love thee as the brother that I never was."

Then there was silence.

Kuno Tatewaki stared at his sister almost beseechingly.

"Thou can have me, Dachi."

Amidst the emptiness and confusion, Ranma caught himself studying Kodachi's face – its paleness, vulnerability, and brokenness. Something in her had shattered once more, and even in her seeming death, something in her pulsed and grew, like the flame of a match being struck.

Yet he could also see the conflict and the fear – two things that made her run to the window and flee, leaving her brother to his thoughts.

A flurry of petals marked her leaving, and the room fell into the stillness of evening shadows.

* * *

Shampoo sat before her dresser, contemplating her lipstick. 

She saw it in the mall earlier that day and bought it on impulse from a relatively new Western line that boasted of a very pretty water-shimmery effect. She stared at it, tilting it this way and that, mesmerized by the way the little diamond-dots glittered from its pinkness.

Despite her martial background, the young amazon had always loved dressing up. She was coquettish, that she had to admit, and she loved all things that could transform her fair Chinese face into something even more beautiful. She loved putting on make-up and spraying on perfume. Most of all she loved wearing silks – oh how she fancied their coolness and smoothness against her skin!

Yes, she loved being beautiful.

Shampoo sighed.

Oddly though, she seemed out of it today. And what made it stranger was the fact that she was actually dressing up for her beloved, an act that used to put her in high spirits.

_Ranma._

She had thought and re-thought of her course action regarding him and his situation for a very long time. It had seemed to most that Akane had won the young man's affections without even trying, and his unspoken decision had its serious effects on all – the Spatula Girl almost never left her restaurant, the Kendo-man had apparently been injured more than ever by the fists of P-chan, and the insane Flower Girl had been muttering even more insanely as she darted past the Nekohanten that late afternoon. People weren't in their "normal" mindsets, and it was all because of Violent Tomboy's condition and Airen's decision.

Shampoo gazed at her reflection on the mirror.

It was only recently that she had finally accepted the fact that her beloved had chosen Akane – she bit her lower lip in determination – but that didn't mean that she couldn't at least try to change his mind.

A thousand and one tactics and schemes had formed in her head even as a thousand and one magical objects and concoctions had passed over her hands, but she refused to use any of them. She had long then known that she would never win Ranma with dark plots and enchanted potions, and so for the first time since her last arrival from China, she decided to win him by doing what any normal woman would do –

She would woo him.

Oh she wouldn't do it with any hint of flirtation, not at all! She would do it subtly, as subtle as the scent she was currently wearing. No jumping, no pouncing, and nothing remotely cat-like. She was going to be her sweet, normal self with only the slightest suggestion of her affections, for he already knew of them anyway. Her change of pace would definitely get him off-guard. And she knew very well that anything that took Ranma off-guard sparked his curiosity. He would be curious of her sudden change of behavior, and that's when she'd draw him in. She'd draw him in until nobody else could reach him – of course not even his comatose fiancée – and then she'd shower him with so much love that he'd forget anybody with the name of Tendo Akane.

Shampoo gave herself a small smile. It was the easiest and most foolproof plan she had ever come up with, and it was a wonder she didn't even think about it before.

She returned her attention to the lipstick. It still shimmered underneath the artificial light, waiting for her to run it across her lips. Yet something was telling her that saving her "relationship" with Saotome Ranma wouldn't be worth her heightened beauty and her brilliant scheme at all. She didn't know what caused such feelings of uncertainty, and it was really starting to annoy her.

Three soft knocks woke her from her reverie.

"Shampoo?"

She didn't need this. Not today, not ever.

"What is it, Mousse?"

The door softly creaked open, and the young man gingerly stepped in. Shampoo raised her gaze and watched him on the mirror, watched as he sharply breathed in and a familiar emotion crossed his spectacled eyes.

"You're so beautiful today…"

For a moment, Shampoo actually pitied the man, and then her distaste overpowered her pity.

The reason why she disliked Mousse so much was because of the way he always acted so weak and dumb. She hated the how he pathetically followed her around like a lost puppy (or duck, for that matter) almost as much as she hated how he would always lose to her despite the fact that he was in some aspects definitely stronger than she was.

Not that she wanted him to win against her and to win _her._ To even think about _that_ was unfathomable. The issue was simply about strength of character – something that Mousse just didn't have.

And there he was, still dumbly staring at her like she was some sort of divine apparition. Fed up, Shampoo rolled her eyes and turned to face him.

"What do you want?" She snapped in Mandarin. "I haven't got all day!"

Mousse bit his lower lip; his eyes were warm with love and sadness.

"Where are you going?" He asked softly, as if he already knew the answer.

"To the Tendos," she replied, tossing her hair at him. "To see Ranma."

"Ah…"

He stood there in silence. Shampoo knew the routine well – he'd ask a stupid question, she'd give a painful answer, and after the silence, the duck-boy would leave, forgetting about what he really came to say.

But this time he remained by the door, and the tension in the air thickened.

"Oh for heaven's sake Mousse, what do you want!"

He looked at her, a small smile touching his lips.

"You know very well what I want."

The amazon groaned. "You damn foolish duck! You can NEVER have me! I love the person who has defeated me and that is – "

"Ranma," he finished, his voice steady. "I know. But he doesn't love you Shampoo."

"I CAN MAKE HIM LOVE ME!"

She was on her feet now, clutching the handle of her hairbrush as if it were the hilt of a sword. The boy was asking for it yet again, and she wouldn't even try holding back if ever the argument turned into an all-out battle.

But in spite of her anger, the young man only looked at her with profound sadness.

"You cannot make anyone love you, Shampoo."

His words hit home. She knew them to be true, but she refused to accept them, most especially since it came from him.

In total frustration Shampoo cried out, throwing the hairbrush at him.

Behind Mousse, a flower vase shattered.

"You speak as if you know everything," she said. "But haven't you been doing the same thing! Haven't you been trying to get me to love you!"

The boy's body visibly stiffened. He opened his mouth to say something, but thought otherwise and clamped it shut. Turning away from her, he stared at the broken pieces of ceramic, before slowly crouching low and picking them up.

"Maybe you're right," he said, white shards delicately placed in one hand, "Maybe we're the same after all."

He then stood to his full height. Artificial light reflected on his glasses, making her unable to read his eyes.

"Maybe that's why I love you."

He left the room, murmuring that Cologne had requested her to do a few deliveries before she went anywhere else.

She was alone once more. Shampoo slowly sat down before her dresser, her fingers finding the pink tube that she had earlier held.

The waxen diamonds were silky on her lips. They subtly shimmered and shone, and somehow they seemed to have softened her features, making her seem delicate, almost vulnerable.

And she was.

She ignored the tears that fell down her cheeks and smiled at her reflection. After all, she was beautiful.

She was so very beautiful.

* * *

The room had been cleaned of rose petals and Kuno had gone home. The chaos was over, and for a moment, Ranma allowed fatigue to overcome him. 

He ran his hand over the old carpet and leaned back on Akane's bed, closing his eyes.

In a span of a few months, he felt older, yet not a bit wiser. There were so many things that he couldn't understand, so many things that he couldn't find any explanation for. Questions formed in his mind over and over again, and now they haunted him like an incoherent mantra that never found its finish.

_Why did this have to happen? _

_Why to this family? _

_Why to Akane? _

_Why to me?_

_Why?_

"Because," she said, "that's just the way it is."

They sat opposite each other, their backs leaning on the same tree. On his side dusk was slowly settling in, even as dawn slowly broke on hers.

The sky was clear, sunlit and starlit, and the breeze sang of spring.

"It shouldn't have been the case, Akane. I could've prevented all this from happening. I had the power to stop it. It was all in my hands – "

"No Ranma." Her voice was light, almost musical, and he slightly smiled at the sound of his name on her lips. "You're no god. You're just you, and you're even a stupid jerk half the time."

"Hey, I resent that."

"As much as I resent being called a violent tomboy?"

"Well… yeah, maybe. But Akane – that's beside the point."

"So what _is _the point?"

He sighed, picking up small bug from the ground and making it crawl on his trousers. "The point is – is – "

He swallowed hard. Sometimes, just when it really mattered, the words seemed to elude him.

"I – I just –"

"I miss you too."

His eyes widened in slight surprise at her admission, yet as quickly as it appeared the brightness was gone.

"If you miss me," he whispered, "then why don't you just come back."

"Ranma – "

He could almost hear the tears in her voice.

"– You know I can't."

"Why?"

"Because – Because that's just the way it is."

They were silent for a few minutes, waiting for the cool spring breeze to pass.

"Well that just sucks," Ranma spat the words out with the frustration of a child and the desperation of a man. "That just plainly sucks."

"I know."

"I don't understand!" He gestured to the impossibly blue sky. "Not that I want to pressure you or anything but Akane, but isn't there anything you can do?"

She didn't answer. Instead, he heard her softly sigh, and right at that moment, he felt ashamed of himself.

She was doing the only thing she could do, after all.

She was staying alive.

Ranma breathed in sharply and closed his eyes, leaning back on the tree in utter defeat.

"I'm sorry."

"No, you shouldn't apologize for anything anymore." She whispered. "You've been apologizing for far too many things recently, and I don't like it. It's not like you."

"Well, I haven't been me in the past few months."

"That shouldn't be so."

"Never thought it would be so hard without you, Akane."

He sat there in silence, feeling the breeze envelope him like her embraces that he had so longed to feel. She was just right behind him, and if he wished it, he could just stand up and hold her and never let her go.

But something told him that if he approached her, she would fade away. She had never been so fragile before, and it angered him to realize that her frailty was his fault. Ranma grit his teeth and shook his head sharply, wishing circumstance and the world to oblivion, so that there would only be Akane and him.

He heard a soft shuffle.

"Ranma?"

Glancing to one side, he saw her pale, calloused hand reaching out to him, waiting for his.

"Where are you?"

He felt for her clumsily, and tightly held her.

"I'm right here."

They stayed there for a long, quiet moment, leaning on the border of dream and reality, connected only by passing touches. Ranma basked in her warmth, taking all that he could get, caressing her skin as if trying to convince himself that this was real, that _she_ was real.

"I miss you so much," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"I know."

"Come back soon."

"I'll try."

The breeze died down as the sky darkened, and the grass turned into an old lifeless carpet that caught the edges of her blanket. His eyelids fluttered open, and slowly the spring garden melted into the four corners of a familiar, silent room.

He stayed still, his eyes wide and blank, the dream still hovering at the edge of his vision. He couldn't make out where it ended and where waking began, for even as he had finally come into full awareness, he still could feel her the warmth of her skin.

As if to test his sanity, he gently moved his hand, and all at once he knew that it had almost been real.

He sat awkwardly, painfully even. Yet he stayed still, holding on to the magic, trying to prolong that miracle of a moment when he realized Akane's limp fingers were intertwined with his.

There was nothing, save for the feel of her.

"Ranma?"

His name sounded rough on another's lips. He could smell her sweat and shampoo from where he sat, and he knew that Nabiki stood close to him, even as he felt his awareness of her slip in and out of his mind.

"Ranma," she repeated. "You have to get up – something's going on downstairs – "

Shutting out her words, he closed his eyes, and forced himself to once again dream.

* * *

Dusk had finally settled in, and Ryouga found himself standing before Furinkan High. 

He had long given up trying to figure out how he got there, only that the sudden confusion that came to him was what had pushed him to leave Ucchan's. Konatsu was the cause of it – Konatsu and his weird questions. He had approached him in the bathroom as he was soaking in the _furo_, ignoring Ryouga's surprised shouts at the sight of a man who looked more of a woman. Konatsu had then daintily knelt before him and looked straight into his eyes.

"_Ryouga-san, do you like Ukyo-sama?"_

He had stared at him, his mind processing what he had just said.

"_L-Like Ukyo-san?"_

"_Yes"_

"_Why would you think that?"_

"_Because I saw her kiss you, and you didn't seem to mind."_

There was a dangerous edge in his voice, as there were dark shadows in his eyes.

"_So tell me – do you like Ukyo-sama?" _He whispered. _"Because if you do, the two of us might have problems."_

He had ignored the threat and leveled him a glare. Yet even if he knew that Konatsu was no match for him, he stood up, got dressed, and left Ucchan's without a word.

Now there he was, standing before Furinkan High, deep in thought.

Konatsu's question had released a dam in his mind, and uncertainties now gushed forth freely, unbound by any control.

The kiss that Ukyo had placed on his cheek was nothing short of innocent; that he knew, for in it's innocence, the feeling it had left conjured images of a slight, sweet woman whom admittedly, a part of his heart belonged to.

But maybe he had unconsciously thought too much about it – about the feel of her lips on his cheek – since just as he wasn't looking, something had happened.

Where there was once one, now there were three faces that moved before his mind's eye. There was Akari, smiling and affectionate as always, Akane beaming in open friendliness, and –

And there was Ukyo, her eyes twinkling with a dangerous mix of femininity and spunk.

His own wry voice taunted him in his head.

"_And you accuse Ranma of being a Casanova."_

He gave a tired little moan, knowing very well that his conscience was right -- he was such a klutz when it came to emotions.

"_Ryouga you idiot."_

In tired frustration he hit his head on the school wall – an act that he right away regretted as he dusted his hair of the cement particles that came from the small crater it had caused.

He knew that he loved both Akari and Akane with much fervor. He hated feeling that way, hated being confused about it, hated the fact that loving two women was already a betrayal to both.

But due to the accident, it seemed that Akane had taken much of his time and most of his heart, leaving the memory of Akari in far deeper doors of his being. Sometimes, she would resurface, and when she did she would take him off-balance, even as he tried to dismiss the fact that a part of him truly missed her terribly.

Somehow during all the mess and the mayhem, Ukyo had casually walked into his world as if for the very first time. She always led him to the right path every time he got lost (literally), and she seemed to be always there when depression took hold of him.

He had never felt so comfortable with a woman before – there was no pressure, no immediate sparks, only a certain _something_ that had grown with time and had managed to sneak up behind him when he wasn't paying attention…

Ryouga blinked.

What was he thinking?

Was he falling in love with Kounji Ukyo?

Was he falling in love _again!_

With another moan, he hit his head on the school wall a second time, not even bothering to dislodge himself anymore until the familiar tinkling of little bells approached him.

"Aiyah, what silly man do?"

Quickly turning around, Ryouga coughed as he waved away the dust the fell from his hair, before meeting the lilac gaze of the Chinese amazon as she sat quite prettily on her bike.

"Hey Shampoo – I haven't seen you in a -- "

It was then that he noticed how her dress seemed more traditional and beautiful that the ones she wore before, how her face seemed far rosier and her lips silkier, and how she smelled so very wonderfully like fresh spring blossoms.

" – while."

Ryouga blushed. Deeply.

Shampoo blinked innocently and smiled.

"Nihao."

* * *

The air was tense. The silence was suffocating. The comforting herbal scent of tea did nothing to put anyone at ease. 

Soun sat stiffly by the dining table, refusing to meet the eyes of those around him.

"Where's Ranma?"

"Ano, Tendo-san," it was Ayame, her voice timid and contrite. "I don't think this is the right time – ano – I don't think Ranma-kun should – "

Her words were cut off by footsteps coming down the stairs. His future-son-in law entered the room, doing nothing to hide his weariness. Nabiki walked ahead of him, releasing a slow, ragged breath before taking her place at her father's side.

"What's going on?" Ranma asked as he remained standing.

Some looked at each other anxiously. Nabiki seemed irate, as if she didn't have the time or the energy for any more dramatics, while Tofu impassively gazed at Kasumi, seemingly torn between want and responsibility.

"What -- _is_ -- going -- on."

Ranma shifted his weight from one leg to the other. If there was one thing that didn't change about him, it was his impatience.

"Son, there's somebody that I'd want you to meet."

The young man glanced at Soun, his eyes later on reflecting an almost bored inquisitiveness as he noticed Ayame and an old woman sitting beside her. The nurse lowered her eyes as he met her gaze, even as her companion smiled warmly, almost sadly.

"Hello. I am Hasegawa Ume, mother of Ayame," she said quite formally, bowing as much as her old bones permitted her. "Please place me in your favor."

Ranma uncomfortably returned the gesture, mumbling his own introduction under his breath.

"Yes, I know who you are, child. Please sit down? I am having a hard time looking up at you."

The young man gazed at Ume for a moment, before shaking his head tired resignation. "Sorry people, but can we just cut through the chase? I really ain't in the mood for this."

Soun barked in warning at his rudeness, but then again he really couldn't blame him. After the insane panic that Kodachi had caused, no one in his house deserved another issue that would cause further distress.

_But_, he thought, meeting Ayame's lonely gaze, _circumstances like this cannot be escaped. _

"Ranma," the nurse softly spoke as if saying a prayer. "There's something I haven't been telling you – "

"A story."

All eyes moved towards the old woman as she slowly placed her teacup down.

"We've been dilly-dallying the past few minutes, and I honestly can't for the life of me understand why we all can't just tell him." Her words could have sounded like a lecture, but they didn't, for Ume's voice was gentle and warm – forlorn yet still a tad bit humorous.

"Mother, it's just that – "

"Oh hush, dearest. The boy deserves to know – that's why we're here, aren't we?"

Soun watched the proceedings in silence, watched as the old woman single-handedly took control of the situation, watched as Ranma's stormy blue eyes trained on her, half-curious, half-anxious.

"What's going on?" He asked a third time, softly.

"Sit down, sweet child."

He finally did.

"Ayame once had a younger sister. Her name was Yuri, and as much as Aya-chan was sugar, Yu-chan was spice." Ume softly chuckled at her choice of words, as if remembering an old joke. "Oh how they were opposites, and yet how they got along so fine."

Outside, the wind chime tinkled softly, as if signaling the coming of night. Soun slightly tipped his head to the sound of it, catching Nabiki's expression of slight irritation and disinterest, for she only knew as much as Ranma and the others knew. Without a word, he held her hand.

Nabiki turned to him in slight surprise at the sudden affection, but didn't move away.

He felt her restlessness dissipate.

"Both my girls passed and entered Tokyo U," the old woman was saying, " and it was there that they met a rather interesting boy." A small smile appeared on her lips. "He grew on us quickly, and as time went by we began treating him as family. Aya-chan even started calling him 'brother'. It seemed though, that he paid more attention to Yu-chan than to any of us."

Ranma furrowed his eyebrows. As if sensing his impatience and confusion, the old woman nodded towards him.

"Don't worry, child. This little story has a point because you see, in the end, Yu-chan and the boy got married, and though childless, they lived three wonderful years together – "

Her eyes darkened, and suddenly Ume seemed older than she really was.

" – until Yu-chan died."

The room remained silent. Leaves softly rustled as an evening breeze passed.

"It was all too sudden. The doctors said it was aneurysm. It was very hard on the family, but we helped each other through," she sighed in profound sadness and regret, her breath catching at her throat. "As for her husband, he was never the same again. He kept to himself, crying over Yu-chan's photograph night after night, until one day, he just disappeared. We never saw him since."

Ume stared at her teacup and for a moment she seemed near tears – but she shook her head, clearing it from unwanted memories, and smiled.

"At least now, we know where he is. At least now, he can be happy."

Nabiki's hand twitched under her father's. She was beginning to understand.

On the other hand Ranma looked as if he already wanted to leave.

"I still don't know what this has got to do with me."

"Here."

Ayame solemnly reached inside her shoulder bag and pulled out what seemed to be a small sheet of paper. With unmasked reluctance, she handed it to him.

Ranma eyed it almost dispassionately, before flipping it over.

And the darkest of shadows settled over his face.

Soun closed his eyes as he heard the boy's heavy footfalls and felt the wind of his passing. Commotion ensued – there were shouts, gasps and sobs, and in that moment between dreadful revelation and forced acceptance, he felt Nabiki's hand tightly clutch his own.

After what seemed to be an eternity, he opened his eyes.

On the table lay the photograph of Yuri, a young woman who almost shared his youngest daughter's features, sitting on a large swing together with her husband – a man with a smiling face under whose mad strength Akane fell, the very same man who now lay beneath that cold tombstone where Ranma's bloodstained fists had placed him.

Hiro.

Kuroda Masahiro.

* * *

He came upon them like lightning. 

The first blow she didn't see coming and its brute force threw her skidding against the rough street. Ryouga was faster than she was, and had managed to avoid it in time. He called out her name, and Shampoo saw the shock in his eyes, even as instinct had directed him to calculate his next move.

But the man that flew between them was beyond prediction or reckoning.

Maybe that was why she loved him so much.

In a blur of fire and night Ranma raced past them – it seemed that he had no intention of fighting, simply of getting any obstruction out of his way. Shampoo quickly stood up and spat out blood, and without another thought, picked up the chase.

"What is the matter with that _idiot_ this time!" Ryouga seethed. He ran before her, amazingly right on track, jumping over walls and houses almost as gracefully as Ranma would. Shampoo followed suite, until both saw the familiar red silk fluttering towards an empty lot. Doubling his speed Ryouga jumped the other from behind, pinning him chest-first to the ground with his legs.

"YOU DAMN IDIOT! What the FUCK are you trying to do!"

With a cry Ranma rolled over and threw him off his back even as he delivered punch that would've dislocated Ryouga's jaw if he hadn't avoided it in time.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH – "

A sharp kick silenced him, and the attacks came like a thousand bullets.

Ryouga narrowed his eyes and with a quick stance wove and moved in a macabre dance that was unlike any other that came before it. Those who have met Ranma in combat would know that even if it would seem that his movements were random, all were in fact governed by critical calculations of his abilities, of his opponent's and of the elements of his environment. He would find patterns and loopholes in places where a less martial artist would find none. In between one punch and the next, he would mold himself onto the strength or the weakness of the one before him, using his uncanny knowledge of the Art and his knowledge of the world to eventually lead him to victory.

Saotome Ranma fought with strength, tenacity, pride, grace and most of all, _control._

Shampoo watched the battle, her eyes growing sadder by the minute.

She saw almost none of those now.

Yes, there was strength, and maybe a bit of tenacity, but the pride, the grace, the _control_ was gone. His were the movements of a wounded animal whose final thought was not to die alone. Though somehow his form was still beautiful, he was as clumsy as a blind dragon, for it was obvious now that it was more than desperation and anger that propelled him to fight –

It was fear.

Shampoo smelled it in his sweat and saw it in his eyes.

Saotome Ranma – the man who had bested her in battle, the man whom she loved, the man who had faced hellish pain with a joke and an insult – was afraid.

Of what, she did not know.

But she knew that an amazon's husband should know nothing of fear, or of regret, or of despair…

"_If a man proves to be an unworthy mate to a child of the Tribe…"_

She tried shaking away the echoes of Tradition that had once been her life, focusing her attention on the field as a dull, rumbling sound arose.

Shards of rocks bit through her beloved's flesh as the _bakusai tenketsu _exploded underneath him, yet even upon its unleashing there was uncertainty on Ryouga's face, and all at once she knew that he was holding back -- he defended more than he attacked while Ranma continuously lashed out in fury, raising dust with spontaneous movements, his feet forming circles upon the earth.

Shampoo almost held her breath at his magnificence, if not for what she saw in his eyes.

Nothing.

It was only pain that made him magnificent.

The reality of it came crashing upon her as heavy as fists that swung in blind fury, and though love beckoned her to reach out to him, it was also love that made her realize that relieving him of his self-created burden was something that she cannot do, no matter how much she wanted to, for he would never find his salvation in her. He would never _want_ to find it in her.

There was only one person who could reach him now.

And it was not she.

Shampoo blinked, suddenly aware of her blurry vision, almost missing a fast yet half-hearted punch that weaved through Ranma's feeble defenses and hit him squarely on the jaw.

It hurt her more than it hurt him.

"_Airen…"_

Recovering from the attack, he spun around and delivered one of his own, only to be blocked and the blow reversed.

"_Airen…"_

He was tired now, and yet he still took stance and struck, slicing the air with blind force propelled by the want to be left alone, the want to grieve, the want to escape, _just please let me escape --_

"AIREN!"

She didn't know what possessed her to do it – yet in one smooth motion a gilded dagger appeared from her thick tresses and with a practiced flick of her wrist, it hummed through the air, embedding itself on the ground between the two men.

Dust settled. Moonlight froze time and the cloak of stillness fell upon all – upon the earth, upon the two silhouettes still poised before each other, and upon her heart that in spite of all the pain, seemed to have found its answer.

"_If a man proves to be an unworthy mate to a child of the Tribe…"_

She knew what to do.

There was a soft, crunching sound; Ranma was trying to escape, just as she predicted he would.

In a moment, she was before him.

"Ranma – "

He skidded to a halt, yet said nothing. Storms moved in those deep blue eyes.

"— Fight me."

He lashed out without giving it any thought, and it seemed that the desperate look she saw on his face was nothing but imagination. Ranma launched a combination of attacks that mere instincts had called upon, and she wove through all of them, feeling the tightness of her muscles as she moved from technique to graceful technique, fighting as though something else had taken over her, as though nothing else had bothered her, as if the one before her was nothing but a dummy, or a ghost.

She didn't know what truly happened – only that in a blinking her arm had blocked his, and her fingers were poised on his neck.

From afar, she heard Ryouga's cry of alarm.

Ranma stared at her without seeing her. His chest heaved against her, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her lips.

This was the closest that she had ever been to him in the longest time, and this might very well be the last. There was nothing more that she could give him, nothing that he truly wanted, and all the same – she closed her eyes – and all the same, there was nothing more that he could give her.

Nothing, even if she still truly loved him.

Ever so gently, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek. She felt him stiffen, yet he ignored her presence even as she leaned forward once more and closed the distance between their lips.

She almost shuddered at his warmth. This, _this _was what had kept her going for so long – the feel of him, the deep yearning that made her bleed from inside, the flame that fed her, that burned her, that killed her.

For a moment she allowed herself to believe that he felt the same way – that maybe, _maybe,_ somewhere in his heart, deep in a place that he didn't know existed, he also burned for her. That maybe, he loved her too.

She ignored the stillness of his lips.

Finally, Shampoo moved back, realizing that her own tears had wet his face.

"In two weeks' time, in the half-light of the waning moon, we shall decide."

It was better that way.

And so she left him, walking away without looking back, finding no solace in the night that embraced her.

All this Ryouga watched in stunned silence, his mind frozen in that almost-deceptive moment when the amazon's lips grazed his opponent's cheek. He knew very well what it had meant.

"That was the Kiss of Death."

There was no reply, save for the light swishing of cloth as Ranma stood up and gazed at the moon. Waxen diamonds smeared across his face as he roughly ran his arm against his lips, turning their iridescence into nothing else but dull dirt that stained his skin.

* * *

to be continued... 


	7. Downward Spiral

Author's Note:

This is my "transition chapter". It's like the eye-of-a-storm sort of thing where everything is deceivingly quiet. Well, almost. I re-wrote this _three effing times_. /hits head on computer screen/

OOCness abound. Nodoka especially. Call it a fanfiction writer's artistic license. I've always thought her to be someone who's both silk and steel. Only a woman of strong character could marry a man like Genma, much less stay with him and wait for his return.

The story will be done in a few more chapters. Do bear with me a little more.

Again, pardon any spelling mistakes and grammatical errors that I might've missed. Sometimes spellchecks aren't that reliable too.

THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the reviews!

Disclaimer: Ranma ½ and all its characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi. All hers. But the story belongs to me. Any unauthorized copying, lending, or distribution without the author's consent is punishable by law. Violators shall be subjected to investigation by police agencies  
and to criminal prosecution. Then again, I might just throw a tantrum.

* * *

Lunar Ember Presents

A Ranma ½ Fanfiction

**WITHOUT HER**

**

* * *

**

**Part 7: **

**Downward Spiral**

"_They may have been right about suffering, _

_though you wished they had warned; _

_It's the same for love…_

_You are never lonelier than when you are in love."_

_- Naya S. Valdellon_

_

* * *

_

Light breezes weaved through the _Shakuji Koen_, sending the sounds of laughter to her ears. She sat on a bench near the large lake, watching couples sitting on little boats, their paddles forming ripples upon ripples on the darkened waters.

Pushing a stray lock behind her ear, Nodoka smiled at the old woman beside her.

"You seem to be rather enjoying your ice cream, Ume-san."

Melted chocolate dripped down her chin, and a wrinkled finger daintily caught it.

"Sometimes it does hurt what's left of my teeth, but a person my age needs to indulge once in a while, ne?"

Nodoka could only shake her head in slight amusement at the sound of her chuckles.

She could spend the entire day like this, she thought. It would be wonderful just to let go and for once be free of everything. She could just sit here with this rather droll old lady and they could just talk about recipes and the weather.

But she knew she couldn't, for the "droll old lady" was also the mother-in-law of the man that her son had killed.

The words brutally assaulted her mind, but whatever pain they may have caused, her face betrayed none of it.

Her hands found comfort in old cloth of the sheathed sword. She carried it around now for no other reason than habit and reassurance. And that reassurance she badly needed.

She and Genma were having dinner in their house the night before when the phone rang. Kasumi was at the other end of the line, the normal sweetness of her voice laced with frightened urgency – _Auntie, something happened… Please come…_

The couple went in a hurry, bumping into Ryouga halfway. The boy had a lost look on his face, and with one arm he supported Ranma who was just as dazed as he was. The sight of her defeated son stopped Nodoka in her tracks. She had never thought that she would see him in such a state.

With a grunt, Genma pushed Ranma into her arms and roughly told Ryouga to follow them to the dojo. He had some explaining to do.

When they reached the Tendos, everything finally came to light.

Such turn of events that had urged her to make this arrangement with Ume. She didn't know exactly what they had to say to each other, but she knew that there was _something_, and she did not want that to be left unresolved.

It was what brought the two of them to the park that afternoon.

Nodoka watched the old woman nibble the last of the soft cone, thinking of a way to speak her thoughts. This woman had faced two deaths in a short span of time, and it was her son that caused one of them. What would a mother of a man who has caused death say to another of one who has tasted death? It bothered her so much that she believed that Hiro deserved what had befallen him, even as she felt remorseful for the loss of the old woman beside her. Revenge and remorse were two things that rarely came together, and due to this her usually reliable sense of reason was slowly failing her.

For the first time in her life, Saotome Nodoka could not at all find the proper words to say.

Yes, it was true that she was so very mad at what Hiro had done to Akane, but how could she say such things to someone who had gone through so much pain? Her mind was running phrases and sentences, all of which seemed frivolous in comparison to the weight of the circumstances.

"What's bothering you, child?"

Nodoka glanced at Ume, carefully hiding her uneasiness behind a light smile.

"Nothing, nothing at all. Why do you ask?"

The old woman looked at her with knowing eyes, before gently motioning towards her hands.

"One who is trained in the ways of the sword instinctively prepares to draw in times of inescapable tension."

Nodoka blinked, realizing that the deep green cloth that hid the weapon had come loose, and that her fingers had been caressing the worn-out hilt.

"P-Pardon me."

She secured the sword, her lips a tight line of confusion. She had never fumbled like this before – never was she so unsure of what to do, and it unnerved her to realize that she couldn't give comfort to the woman beside her, much less herself.

"I understand that being with me bothers you."

The string sharply hissed as she tightened it, and Nodoka smoothened the cloth with a small smile.

"Ume-san, where do you get such strange ideas?"

"You need not say anything, Nodoka-san. Much less explain anything."

The smile disappeared, and there was silence.

"What my son-in-law had done was wrong," Ume continued. "Akane-chan was no more than an innocent young girl, and he had taken almost everything from her because he wasn't strong enough to bear the pain of Yu-chan's passing."

"I was so mad," Nodoka found herself suddenly saying. "The things that he had taken away from Akane, from her family, from my _son_ – " She looked at her, her eyes dark and distressed. "I know he loved his wife. I do not blame him for loving her so much – "

"Yet you blame him for Akane's and Ranma's sufferings."

Her words hit home. The old woman's smile was warm and understanding, but even as righteousness had given her strength, Nodoka couldn't help but shy away from it.

"Pardon me, Ume-san, but there was no excuse for his weakness."

She finally said it. It was cold of her, but she believed that her son had done no injustice. A dark, primal part of her believed that Hiro was the sinner. She could not help but feel furious every time she saw the sadness in her son's eyes. If Akane would not wake up, if Ranma's happiness would forever remain out of his reach…

Yet as she faced the old woman, all she wanted to do was to give her reassurance. She had no hand in what had befallen her family. Even her daughter Ayame had tried to repent for her brother-in-law's sins by becoming Akane's nurse. It must have been hard for her to see the repercussions that Hiro's actions had caused. If only there was a way to give comfort, to forgive and be forgiven even without apologies…

"I do not deny what my son has done to your son-in-law…"

"Neither do I," Ume said. "But my dear, I did not come here to judge Ranma's actions. I did not come here either for any legal reason – I can't stand lawyers anyway."

Nodoka stared at her. "Ume-san, I –"

"I came here because I wanted to see how all of you are doing, and to thank you for giving Hiro-kun the peace that he had so longed for."

Gnarled hands reached out for calloused ones with a grip that that spoke of sincerity.

"You do not know how much he had longed for death. I'm sure he's grateful to your son for what he has done for him. Ranma-kun's vengeance is just, and it had been such a gift for him."

"I wish I knew how to make things easier for you," Nodoka whispered. "But I could not even make things easier for Ranma…"

"Oh child! There mere fact that you are with him is enough!"

She felt the warmth of old fingers upon her face, and she looked at her, her eyes open and honest, conveying a deep sadness that she had kept hidden for so long.

"You are with him, and all you need to do is to stay with him," Ume whispered, brushing away stray locks from her face. "As for me, you need not worry about my pain, since there is almost none."

Yet even as she spoke old eyes that had seen a lifetime of tragedies blinked away tears of weariness, just as sincerity gently shone through them. Her words were of morbid logic and perverse acceptance, for she knew that they couldn't be any other way – to their truth Nodoka found herself surrendering, and it was at that moment she realized in awe that she and the old woman were almost the same.

Gently, she reached out and placed her hand over her own.

"Thank you."

"It is I who should be thanking you, Saotome-san."

Closing her eyes, she felt the afternoon breeze whisper against her skin, and she let the laughter that it carried echo deep within her.

Nodoka sighed.

There was nothing left to say.

* * *

An upward draft blew sharply into Ukyo's face as she stepped onto Furinkan High's rooftop. Pushing her hair behind her ear, she idly walked into the afternoon sunlight, her ears full of the lunchtime ruckus that came from below.

"Don't you usually have your lunch over _there_?"

Turning to one side, she saw the Tendo middle-child sitting near the railing, pointing down to the field below.

"Nabiki! What are you doing here?"

"Trying to be alone," she said, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Er -- okaaaaay… I can get a hint."

Ukyo slowly backed away. She knew that Nabiki could be a pain when she chose to, and with everything that was bothering her recently – _where the hell did Ryouga run off to this time? _-- she didn't need to deal with more problems.

"Wait."

She stalled and winced.

"What?

"I changed my mind. I guess I could use a little company for a while," she paused, "even yours."

Nabiki was watching the activities below with undisguised boredom, and yet her eyes shone with something akin to worry, even dread.

Ukyo gingerly approached her, watching for any sign of a sudden rebuff – or trickery – before settling down across her and unwrapping her lunch. It took a few minutes before she finally fell at ease, though she never completely relaxed her guard. It was the infamous Ice Queen/Material Girl that she was dealing with, after all.

"You seem well," Nabiki started, breaking the silence.

"I get by."

"How's the restaurant?"

"Good. Konatsu runs it when I have to be away. Want some?"

Nabiki slightly smiled, declining the offered _onigiri_.

Ukyo watched her from beneath her lashes. It's been months since Akane had fallen into a coma, and she had seen that more or less Nabiki had been handling it quite well. She never saw her break down. Ever. The only thing that came close to that was this – Nabiki, staring into space, with a glazed look in her eyes. And that was very rare, for it seemed to her that the upper-classman was always above everything.

"Ranma loves my sister."

The comment came out of nowhere. It was like a blow to the gut that she didn't see coming, and Ukyo held back the urge to reel in pain.

"I know that," she whispered.

"Really?" The older girl looked at her. "I always thought you and the others were kinda clueless about it."

Ukyo sighed, leaning back on the support of her hands. The sky seemed infinitely blue that day, and the wind caressed her cheeks like a lover would.

"I guess I always knew," she said. "I just never admitted it or accepted it. I've tried being violent about it before – " she guiltily remembered the last failed wedding, "but I kinda knew that sooner or later they'd come together on their own whether I objected or not. See, it's that stubborn part of me that always thought that it was I who knew Ran-chan best, that it was I whom he would choose above everyone else." She smiled bitterly to the heavens. "I guess I was wrong. After all, only until recently he thought I was a guy."

Her situation was so pathetic it could almost be funny if it didn't hurt so much.

"How do you manage? Knowing that you can't really have him?"

Ukyo gave the older girl a strange look.

"Since when did you become my shrink?"

"Just answer the question."

It was weird – frightening even – the way that Nabiki seemed suddenly interested in her feelings. When she got like this it usually meant that she had another moneymaking scheme up her sleeve. The interrogation unnerved her a little, but somehow, she could do nothing else but answer.

"How do I manage," Ukyo thoughtfully said, pushing herself back up. "I used to cry over it. Lots. I still do sometimes. But then I get tired of it too. And I learn to live with it." She poured herself a cup of cold tea, staring at the sun's reflection on the tinted liquid. "Ryouga hung out in my place for a while, and Konatsu's perpetually there too, so I guess being with other people helps. I mean, I'm okay when I'm with friends, but when I'm alone…"

Ukyo fell silent, recalling the night when she realized that Ryouga had wandered off again. It was a common occurrence, what with the boy's absolutely hopeless sense of direction, but somehow at that time, even with Konatsu worriedly hovering over her, the thought of his leaving had hurt so much…

She had cried over him that night. She had cried over him, over Ranma, and over all those who went away.

Everybody seemed to be going away.

"I just don't like being alone, you know?"

Ah yes, she was pathetic. In the end, Kounji Ukyo was nothing but a sniveling crybaby after all.

"You aren't alone."

She blinked.

"Huh?"

"I said you aren't alone," Nabiki huffed, annoyed at the cheesiness of her own comment. "You got your friends, you still got Ranma even if he's all messed up – "

"But…"

"And don't you have Konatsu?"

"Konatsu!" Ukyo exclaimed. "That guy is hopeless. I bet he'll be prancing about like a girl for the rest of his life."

"Then why don't you tell him to wear normal guy clothes? I bet he'll be scrambling to do so if he knew that it would make you happy." Nabiki smirked. "He's quite a character, but you have him nonetheless."

She knew what she said was true.

Ever since he had come to live with her, Konatsu had never done anything that wasn't for her happiness. He seemed to be always there, like an angel hovering behind her. Though sometimes the constant surveillance was utterly tedious, she couldn't help but feel secure in his presence, so much so that she couldn't even imagine how empty her house would be without the gender-confused _omnitsu_ to fill it with his comforting aura.

She could never show it, but she appreciated him and his ways.

The warm tingling she felt at the thought of him surprised her so much that she instinctively shook it off before it could even grow.

"Nabiki, why are you asking me these things?"

"C'mon, isn't a bit of girl talk so much fun."

"Quit the charade, sugar. You don't strike me as the emotional type. What's the deal?"

The older girl leaned on the railing and languidly folded her arms over her chest.

"It doesn't really matter."

"And here I was practically spilling my guts before you."

"You didn't have to."

"Nabiki!"

"Oh, I just wanted to see."

"To see what!"

"How you would react when you find out that Ranma has chosen my sister over all of you."

Ukyo felt her jaw go slack.

"What? _Why?_"

Nabiki shook her head as she gave an almost frustrated sigh. The afternoon breeze slightly picked up, carrying with it the sound of the school bell, signaling that lunchtime was over.

"Because if you went psycho about it, I would have to do something about you. You know – a few 'preventive measures'." Her eyes slightly narrowed. "Shampoo went overboard, and I don't think my family can handle any more enraged 'fiancées'."

"You don't need to thr – hey, wait. Shampoo?"

Nabiki stood up, her unopened lunch bag in one hand.

"She's gonna be fighting Ranma."

"Ran-chan? But _why_?"

Stopping in her tracks, the Tendo middle-child looked at her, her eyes shinning with cynicism.

"I don't know. Ask her. All I know is Ranma is once again the lucky recipient of the Kiss of Death."

And she left.

The buzz around campus slowly died down as students filtered back inside their classrooms. Only the breeze whispered to her now, and yet it did nothing to help her make any sense out of what Nabiki had just said.

The Kiss of Death? At a time like this? What was that Chinese bimbo thinking! Ukyo's thoughts tumbled one over the other, and when still she couldn't fathom what such an action could have meant, she responded in the most logical way possible –

She got righteously mad.

Quickly wrapping up her unfinished lunch, Kounji Ukyo ran up the railing and bounded off the building.

That Shampoo definitely had a_ lot_ of explaining to do.

* * *

Kasumi sat in the kitchen, the place where she felt most at home. It wasn't the nicest kitchen in the whole world, but it was hers. Together with the scent of old cooking oil, memories hung in its cozy atmosphere, and whenever she needed the strength to move on, she would wrap them around her shoulders like a cloak until she felt better.

She could see them then – ghosts of a recent past. There's her father peeping through the _noren _asking her what was for dinner, while from outside she could hear Uncle Saotome inverting the _shoji_ board once more. There's Nabiki walking in her kitchen and handing her a few wads of money – _"That's in addition for this month's budget" –_ before grabbing a soda and avoiding Ranma who just crashed through the door. The pig-tailed boy would start griping about how tomboys made bad fiancées, and Akane's voice would echo throughout the house – _"I heard that, you jerk!_"

And there she was, standing before the cutting board, taking everything in with an oblivious smile on her face.

She had been content with her life then, with the ever-pulsating warmth of family moving around her. _Dojo yaburi_, kidnapping princes, trained elephants – everything came and went, yet she found peace in that. And it would not be so far-fetched to believe that the cold that had been brought by her mother's death slowly melted with the arrival of two unruly houseguests who seemed to drag chaos wherever they went. Her father honestly enjoyed Genma's company, Nabiki snorted at the rising household expenses but went on paying for them anyway, and Akane…

Kasumi sighed. Akane. Ever since Ranma came along she saw the childhood anger mellow in her eyes. The boy's presence had humbled her, as much as it had taught her that true strength was keeping at bay one's own. She saw that lesson in Ranma, even if she would never admit it. It made Kasumi wistful sometimes, how suddenly her _imouto_ had grown up.

She missed her.

She missed her so much.

Slowly, the young woman raised her eyes and stared at an envelope that had been sitting in front of her. It was made of pink scented paper that slightly glimmered when held to the light. A lavender ribbon secured the flap in place and at the back, written in neat _romanji,_ was the name "Tendou Akane."

Kasumi reached out for it and opened it.

"_You are cordially invited to a romantic night of dreams and dances…"_

It was an invitation to the prom. Sayuri and Yuka had given it her a couple of days ago, asking her to tell Akane that they would meet her there. Their voices were happy, but their eyes said otherwise.

Kasumi refolded the scented paper. She remembered her own prom, how her sisters excitedly fussed over her, how she went down the stairs in an elegant green gown, how she looked up and saw…

He was dressed in a deep blue suit, holding a corsage box with trembling hands.

"_Tofu…"_

Something had moved in his eyes, and she held on to that moment then as much she did now, even if he had moved away…

"_I'm afraid of you."_

Moved away and left her alone.

Kasumi stared dully at the invitation.

The prom. It was something that she would never experience again, and it was something that Akane would not experience at all. Oh dear, what a waste. And she had been waiting for this for such a long time too…

"'_Nee-chan? Would I look better in plum or in blue?"_

"Blue, Akane-chan," she whispered to the empty kitchen. "You always look good in blue."

Kasumi dropped the envelope and leaned into her hands. No tears came, for the well had already run dry a long time ago.

She did not even notice the bouquet of roses underneath the _noren_, upon which was a note written in the familiar, looping scrawl of a young doctor…

"_Kasumi,_

_Please forgive me. _

_Tofu."_

_

* * *

_

The sun had gently dipped westward, casting warm colors on Tofu's face. He had been walking around the neighborhood for a while now, thinking about the mess he had placed himself in again. He had wanted to apologize to Kasumi, to tell her that if she would let him, he could be with her to help her carry the burden that he knew she has been carrying alone. But when he saw her in the empty kitchen, he just couldn't muster enough courage to approach her. He thought that showing up at such a private moment wouldn't do both of them any good, so he just left her his gift, hoping that he would find it in her heart to forgive him for his cowardice.

He was pathetic, that he knew, and accepting it didn't make him feel any better.

"_Maybe,"_ he mindlessly pushed up his glasses, _"maybe when everything has gone back to normal, I can finally be man enough to tell her…"_

"Tofu-sensei?"

He blinked and looked up.

The young man stood before him; the white of his clothes have turned into pale yellow in the sunlight, and it reminded him of the upside-down cake that Kasumi had made him a couple of birthdays ago.

"Hello, Mousse."

"I've been looking for you since you weren't in the clinic," Mousse said, bowing politely. "I was just wondering if I could ask you for medicines."

Tofu tried his best to focus his attentions as far from Kasumi as possible. With a friendly tap on the back, he led the young man down the road. "Medicines? I know that Cologne-san has more concoctions than I have."

"Yes, but we need these," he handed the doctor a piece of paper. "Because we sorta – um – ran out of them."

"Ran out?"

He felt Mousse trying to stop the urge to fidget. His question seemed to have hit a nerve, and he felt his heart sink to his stomach – this must mean more trouble.

"Did anything happen that you need a new stock of herbal painkillers and topical ointments on such short notice?"

"It's for – It's for Shampoo."

Tofu blinked. "Shampoo? Why?"

"The old ghoul has been training her so much, and she's always so beat up the past few days…"

The doctor furrowed his eyebrows. Cologne had been quiet all these months, and honestly, he was genuinely surprised that she hadn't done anything drastic about her great-granddaughter's claim to Ranma.

Now all of a sudden, here was Mousse telling him that due to some rigorous training that she was subjecting her apprentice to, even _she _was running out of medication!

"Mousse, what's the training for?"

"Ah – "

"Shampoo's goin' up against Ran-chan."

Tofu felt her presence even before she spoke. Looking up, he saw Ukyo standing on the rooftop of a bungalow, the spatula she held glimmering in the sunlight like a wicked scythe.

Mousse stepped forward, irritated at the intrusion. "How did you know that?"

The girl shrugged. "Nabiki told me. What's it to you anyway?"

"I'm warning you, if you even try to interfere – "

"You aren't in the position to make threats." Ukyo said, jumping down before them. "I need to talk to Shampoo."

Mousse stood in front of her. "You aren't going anywhere near her."

"Get out of the way, sugar."

"No."

The hum of steel and the crash of concrete came without warning. Tofu instinctively leapt backwards, blinking rapidly to clear the dust from his eyes. "Mousse!"

The smoke settled, revealing Ukyo standing calmly before a gash on the ground. Mousse stood a good three meters away from her, with a clean cut at the front of his clothing.

The young woman slowly looked up, her voice was soft and cold.

"I told you to get out of the way."

"And let you get to her?" Mousse scoffed, unaffected by the attack. "I may be myopic, but I'm not stupid."

"Suit yourself."

She was a blur before him, and when Mousse looked up, wicked-edged spatulas fell upon him like a rain of _kunai_.

The blades bit empty ground as the young man flipped backwards, slamming his hands on the concrete and pushing himself into the air just in time to avoid Ukyo's scythe-like weapon. A chain shot from his sleeve and missed its target by inches. It was answered by another volley of spatulas that were deflected by Chinese throwing knives.

The two landed on solid ground, neither hurt nor winded, their gazes locked on each other.

"We both know we're just wasting time," Ukyo's tone was almost conversational. "You can kick my ass as much I can kick yours; why don't we just save us the trouble, ne?"

Mousse adjusted his glasses. "My thoughts exactly. Now be a nice little girl leave Shampoo be."

"Not until she promises not to fight Ran-chan."

"It's her decision, not mine."

The young woman roughly bit her lower lip. Tofu could tell that Ukyo's patience was wearing thin, and so was Mousse's. The tension of the past months was taking its toll, and the current situation wasn't helping at all.

Above him, Nerima's residents were shutting their windows one after the other.

Tofu furrowed his brows. Two overstressed martial artists only meant bad news. He had to do something.

"For the last time, Mousse. Talk her out of it."

"Why don't you just mind your own business, woman?"

"Because –" Ukyo leapt back. "—Ran-chan's business is _my_ business!"

Her arms flew forward, and blades streaked towards Mousse.

The doctor's eyes narrowed.

Sounds of steel hitting surface thudded one after another. Ukyo landed on the ground, her feet raising dust as the momentum pushed her back.

"No – not you too!"

Tofu stood before her, his eyes clear behind his glasses. He casually raised his hands – each blade was deftly caught in the spaces between his fingers.

"This isn't the right way, Ukyo. You know that it isn't."

He threw the blades back, and the young woman caught them with the same ease.

"But sensei – Shampoo – "

"Yes, about Shampoo." Tofu turned to Mousse. "Why is Shampoo fighting Ranma? I think we already have enough trouble as it is."

"I don't think I – "

"Spit it out duck-boy. I ain't in the mood for bullshit."

Tofu silenced Ukyo with a stern look before returning his gaze to Mousse.

"You have to at least tell us something. You know that Ranma is in no shape to fight."

"All right, all right." The young man rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Shampoo gave Ranma the Kiss of Death. By law, only the giver of the Kiss can retract the challenge, while its recipient cannot withdraw from the fight. Please don't ask me why she did it," he raised a hand to preempt any questioning. "Just don't."

Ukyo gave out a ragged breath.

_This clearly complicates things_, the doctor thought as he watched the young woman from the corner of his eye. He did not know much about the traditions of Joketsuzoku, and the little that he knew came mostly from Cologne. As to what law or loophole merited a betrothed the Kiss of Death, he had no idea.

"This isn't the right time for a duel. Can't you talk Shampoo out of this?"

"Me? Talk her out of it? Do you think I didn't try?" Mousse gestured helplessly at the afternoon sky. "When did she ever listen to _me_?"

"There must be some other way to change her mind."

The young man slowly shook his head. "There isn't. Shampoo… she has her reasons. I have an inkling as to why she challenged Saotome, and if I'm right …"

He trailed off and looked at them. There was sad resignation in his eyes, as if he had no choice, as if what was to happen was meant to be.

"Sensei, I wish there _were_ some other way."

"Ran-chan ain't gonna be hauled out of this mess by wishing." Ukyo suddenly said. "I told you to leave this to me."

She replaced scythe-like spatula behind her, glaring at Mousse as the latter made a move the block her once more.

"Back to square one, aren't we sugar?"

"What are you planning to do, Ukyo?" Tofu asked.

"I'm gonna ask her to lay off Ran-chan. But if asking doesn't work –" Her left foot slightly nudged forward, and Mousse's hand twitched in response.

"I think you better cool that temper first, young lady."

Ukyo closed her eyes for a moment, sighing deeply before turning to him.

"Sensei, this is Ran-chan we're talking about here. I'm not just gonna stand around and watch an Amazon-gone-psycho get the best of him."

"Listen to me – "

She shot past them; she was beyond any logic or reasoning. Tofu clucked his tongue.

"Damn it."

The two men followed suite, avoiding the rain of throwing spatulas that met them. Mousse flicked his wrist and a chain wrapped itself around Ukyo's left ankle, only to be promptly slashed by the giant blade that she once again brandished. She recovered quickly – but not quick enough.

With skill that he so rarely displayed, Tofu gracefully leapt over them. He landed before Ukyo and spun around just in time to avoid a strike, moving behind her to activate three pressure points down her back.

He heard her gasp and there was a pause. Dust settled around them.

"What…"

"Relax, Ukyo."

With that, her knees gave way and she collapsed to the ground, blinking in shock.

"You…"

"Don't worry, it's temporary," Tofu crouched before her and gently smiled. "You'll regain use of your arms and legs again after an hour or so. That will give you enough time to cool down."

Ukyo shook her head sharply.

"But you don't understand – Ran-chan can't handle any more of this! Why can't they just leave him alone!"

She did not even attempt to hide her distress. She looked back and forth the both of them, desperately waiting for an answer.

"Believe me or not, Saotome needs this." Mousse quietly replied. "As much as – no – _more_ than Shampoo does."

"Can't Shampoo solve anything without violence?"

"You think she wants to do this?"

There was no trace of anger in Mousse's face – only dull pain moved in his eyes. Ukyo stared at him for a silent moment, before looking away.

"That's enough, children."

Gingerly, Tofu scooped the young woman up and stood.

"Sensei —"

"I'm taking you back to your place," he said. "Konatsu will look after you. Mousse?"

"Yes?"

"Wait for me at the clinic. I'll give you your medicines."

"Thank you, sensei."

"Hey – wait!" Ukyo tried to squirm free. "This isn't fair!"

"Life isn't fair, my friend," Mousse called out as he walked away. "But the lot of us always survive, don't we?"

"BULLSHIT!"

She bit her lips as she watched his receding figure.

"Bullshit…"

"Don't worry, Ukyo," Tofu whispered. "We'll find a way out of this."

With a small smile, he looked at that the young woman in his arms.

She was crying.

He said nothing more. Holding her close, the doctor turned down the street and took her home.

* * *

Long days passed and the week turned in painful lethargy. There was nothing but silence in Nerima.

Ayame walked down the hallway of the Tendo residence, hearing the echoes of her own heartbeat as she felt herself slowly crashing into herself, much like a dying star, or a black hole. Her mother had left three days after she came with her revelation, and now she had to carry alone the burden of its repercussions.

The first few days were awful. Even with the respectful conversations she had with the Tendos, she could see the hurt in their eyes. She constantly tried to bridge the gap that had started to grow between them – an act that was greatly appreciated. But she of all people knew that healing always took time. To suddenly find out that your daughter's assailant and your daughter's nurse come from one family was most definitely unnerving. It was hard for all of them.

Her feet had mindlessly carried her up the stairs, and now Ayame stood before the bedroom where she had tried day and night to bring back the life that Hiro had almost negligently taken.

_Hiro-kun…_

Disbelief washed over the day she learned of what her brother-in-law had done. For him to kidnap a young woman, much less hurt her and her fiancé, was something that she could never picture him doing. It was impossible for the Masahiro she had known to do such horrible things.

Then again, the man he had become after Yuri's death was a far cry from the man he once was.

The scent of medicine and machine greeted her as she opened the door. Sighing, Ayame tried to imagine what the room could have once smelled like. She imagined the latest chic cologne mixed with freshness of spring's first breezes, and the warmth of a girl's presence as she moved about like the way she did in her sisters' stories – with so much spunk, so much intensity, so much _life_.

Regret washed over her.

Seeing Tendo Akane for the first time in the hospital was like seeing Yuri all over again. The resemblance was uncanny; the girl looked so much like her sister that she had practically begged the administration to let her be her nurse.

If she couldn't save Hiro's wife, then she would save Hiro's victim.

It was then that her own personal struggle to come to terms with her sister's death became a moral responsibility to atone for her family's sins. And later on, as the Tendos and the Saotomes slowly filtered into her life, she realized that she wasn't doing it anymore just for the reasons that she started with. She was doing it because she _wanted_ Akane to wake up; because she had learned to love her and those dearest to her.

That was why she stood before her room that evening, in spite of the tension that her mother's revelation had caused. She wanted to bring her back to her family, and most especially to the young man who sat alone in the darkness before her bed.

"Ranma-kun?"

She sensed his slight movement, but no reply came.

Ayame sighed deeply, painfully, filling her lungs and heaving everything out in one, ragged breath. Ranma knew now that it wasn't by chance that she was with them, and the knowledge that she had caused him more grief constantly troubled her.

Shaking away the feeling, she turned on the light. She would continue on. She would. Akane needed her to do so.

Yuri needed her to do so.

Ayame did her routine in silence – checking the young woman's statistics and jotting down her findings. When she was done, she closed her folder with a snap and looked up.

Ranma was watching her.

She stamped down the uneasiness that his eyes evoked in her. She was a healer, damn it. She had seen through instances worse than this. She was supposed to be used to all of it. She had been psychologically trained for her line of work, after all.

So why then was she so lost?

Ayame found herself sitting beside the young man, feeling the old, clean carpet brush against her ankles. She stayed in spite of her companion's silence, counting the soft beeps that came from Akane's machines – _twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two…_

"I told you so."

His voice was rough and broken, as if he hasn't spoken in a very long time. The sound of it surprised her, and Ayame abruptly turned to face him.

"What did you say?"

Ranma stared blankly at the bed.

"I told you so."

She tried reading his eyes, but she couldn't. They were too shadowed, too old.

"I – I don't think I understand – "

"It's me," he murmured. "Akane, Hiro…"

The raw pain in his voice almost frightened her.

"It's all my fault."

Ayame bit her lip and stared at him. He was just – what – seventeen? Eighteen? The stories she heard about Ranma before the incident painted him as someone who was undefeatable, unbreakable. But no matter what anybody said, he was still half a boy who was being forced to become a man. She could imagine the pressure he was going through, and it was a miracle that he still haven't gone insane…

Gingerly, Ayame placed her hands on the boy's shoulders and made him face her.

"Ranma. Look at me."

He raised his eyes without resistance.

"It's never your fault, okay?"

"Bullshit. Stop making me feel better."

"I'm not! I'm just telling the truth -- "

"The truth is _I _failed to protect Akane! _I_ killed Hiro!" He suddenly yelled. "Stop pretending!"

A strangled cry escaped her lips and without any thought Ayame crushed the boy in a desperate embrace, hoping to somehow preserve whatever innocence was left in him.

"It's not your fault. Not your fault at all…" she whispered urgently into his shoulder. _Please don't hurt yourself anymore. Let me carry this burden for you. It's the least I can do…_

Guilt scalded her tongue and stung her eyes. She held on to him tighter, as if protecting him from something, as if protecting herself from further pain.

_I am so very sorry…_

She felt the muscles underneath the silken shirt relax as the boy surrendered to her embrace. For a moment, Ayame allowed herself the peace that came with his unconscious acceptance, finding in it the strength that she so badly needed. With that strength, she prayed that she could give all of them back courage, faith, hope…

She sighed, running her fingers through his hair.

…_And Akane._

_

* * *

_

Nodoka turned, softly closing the door behind her.

"You're not talking to the boy?"

Looking up, she saw Genma leaning on the wall, his hands folded over his chest.

"Not right now. Ayame-san is there."

The large man huffed. Nodoka brushed past him and walked towards the stairs.

Her son did not notice her, but as the drama unfolded inside the sickroom she had been watching by the door.

The boy she saw was not the Ranma that she had come to know.

"What are you planning to do?"

Nodoka felt her husband's calloused hand gently reach out for her wrist. She sighed, refusing to face him, but letting herself be pulled to his chest.

"I don't know. I don't know anymore."

Genma huffed once more. "He has to shape up. That Amazon's challenge is in a few days. How the hell is he going to win if he's gone this soft?"

Nodoka was silent, letting the warmth of his husband return her to a state of balance. Ranma has fallen into a depression so deep that nobody could reach him. With everything that she knew happened to him before she returned to his life and after, it was only with Akane's accident that he went this far. She always knew that the girl had so much power over her son – she saw it in his eyes when he grudgingly told her of what happened in Mount Phoenix. "I thought she was dead," he had said, leaving it at that. The silence that followed expressed what he felt more than any words could – _To lose her is to lose everything._

But such a belief was the beginning of a fatal weakness. It was the same weakness that had turned Hiro mad, the very same weakness that had started this entire mess in the first place.

She bit her lips.

Her son would never share the fate of Kuroda Masahiro. Not if she could help it. She would not – _could not --_ allow it to happen.

"Nodoka?"

"Ranma _will_ fight Shampoo," she heard herself say.

"But what if he refuses to?"

"He'll fight."

Saotome Nodoka felt a strange calm descend upon her as she turned to face her husband.

"I'll make him."

* * *

_to be continued..._


	8. Linger

Author's Notes:

I just have to say this -- the crash course on Flash is DRIVING ME NUTS! AAARGH!

Okay. Phew. That felt good.

Anyway, here's the next installment! This has gone through SO MANY rewrites I've lost count. Part 8 filled up a lot of pages on MS Word, has a lot of drama, and of course a has a great deal of OOCness. I pushed the characters as far as I could. I would love comments -- but I wouldn't like sharp objects thrown at me, ehehe.

Two more chapters to go! My, I honestly didn't think the story would go this way. It's like it has a life of its own now...

Special thanks to my officemate who sports the mohawk for some of Shampoo's Mandarin lines.

Disclaimer: Ranma ½ and all its characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi. All hers. But the story belongs to me. Any unauthorized copying, lending, or distribution without the author's consent is punishable by law. Violators shall be subjected to investigation by police agencies and to criminal prosecution. Then again, I might just throw a tantrum.

* * *

Lunar Ember Presents

A Ranma ½ Fanfiction

**WITHOUT HER**

**Part 8:**

**Linger**

"_Glowing ember, burning hot, burning slow –_

_deep within I'm shaken by the violence of existing_

_for only you._

_I know I can't be with you._

_I do what I have to do._

_I know I can't be with you._

_I do what I have to do._

_And I have the sense to recognize,_

_but I don't know how to let you go._

_ - Sarah Mclachlan_

* * *

_  
_Two weeks have passed. It was late afternoon, and in the eastern sky rose the waning moon. 

Akane's curtains slightly billowed in a passing breeze, framing her glass windows as they settled. A figure slipped through them – the dying light revealed a tiny old man perched on top of the study desk. He stopped short, seeing a wavy-haired woman resting upon it. Curiously, he leaned over her. Oh, she was beautiful and – _SWEET-O_ – curvy at just the right places!

Not wanting to wake her up he nimbly jumped over her, but not before sniffing her strawberry-scented hair. He'll have all the time in the world with her -- later. A little waiting made such things sweeter.

With almost rodent-like movements he scurried across the floor and climbed up the sickbed, barely making any noise.

Before him lay Akane. He winced for a moment, as if anticipating a blow, but all he saw and heard from her was the regular intake and release of breath. Finally sure that he was safe, he crawled to her side and positioned his hands over her chest.

"Sweet Akane-chaaaaan!"

"HAPPY!"

His hands disappeared behind him.

"I wasn't doing anything!"

"You perverted lecher." Cologne emerged from one corner of the room. She had seen everything and had just been biding her time. "Have you no shame – trying to grope a girl in coma!"

"SHH! You'll wake up that pretty lady over there!"

"Ayame? She won't be waking up in a while. I convinced her to rest – HAPPOSAI!"

The old man had been trying to sneak out.

"Sit down."

"Cologne-chan – "

"NOW."

Happosai laughed maniacally as he made a run for the window, only to be stopped by a smack on the head. A few minutes later, he found himself sitting before Cologne, who stood between him and his only safe way out.

"You aren't going anywhere until you tell me what you're up to."

"I just wanted to visit Akane-chaaaaaaan," the old man whined. "I miss her sooooooooooo much!"

"You hide your shameful face all these months and all of a sudden you show up."

"But --"

"Why are you here?"

"I told you – "

"You're lying."

"If you won't believe me – "

"I certainly don't."

"—Then why should I tell you?"

"Because I'm asking."

"Why are _you_ here, Cologne-chan?"

"It's none of your business."

The two stared at each other.

"My, my. What a jolly situation we both have here!" Happosai laughed.

"QUIET."

The commanding voice of the matriarch stilled him. He blinked at her, stiff and unmoving as a deer on headlights. Nearby, a machine quietly beeped out the seconds.

"All right, Happy," Cologne sighed. "Tell me why you're here, and I'll listen."

"Will you – Will you believe me?"

"It depends on what you'll say."

The old man folded his arms over his chest.

"Very well," he started, his expression suddenly turning grave. "The reason why I have been gone all these months is because I've been looking for something that would wake Akane-chan up."

Cologne's eyebrow slightly twitched.

"Years and years ago, I received from the gods a great power that could bring a person back from the curse of lifelong sleep, or even from the brink of death." The old man nodded. "Yes, it was such enormous power that I had to hide it so that nobody may use it for ill. In my youth I climbed Fuji-yama to secure it in its ancient heights. Only now did I retrieve it." He stood up in sudden fervor. "Oh, such was its greatness! It's power! Oh the sacred Phoenix Point Chart!"

"Yes, it's such a shame that you only have half of it."

"EH?! How did you – "

"You dimwitted fool," Cologne barked. "Talking about a gift from the gods – you stole half of the Phoenix Point Chart from our village!"

Happosai suddenly turned a very dark shade of red.

"B-but the gods – "

"Oh just stop it and give it to me."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because I have the other half, you buffoon!"

The old man almost doubled over in surprise.

"You have the other half right now?"

"Yes."

The two stared at each other in silence, realizing the implication of their words. Their intentions were the same.

"Cologne-chan, you're going to use the Phoenix Point on Akane-chan?

"Yes," she simply said.

"You actually _want _Akane-chan to wake up?"

"I don't need to explain anything to you, Happy."

Cologne hopped past him and onto Akane's bed, pulling out an old parchment from the folds of her clothing. Biting her lips she gazed at the inscription, deliberately ignoring her companion.

Happosai stood behind her for a quiet moment, uneasy and unsure about what to do. Finally, he gingerly approached her, scratching his almost hairless head.

"Cologne-chan?"

"What?"

Happosai cringed from her apparent distaste.

"I can help…"

Cologne stared at him through half-lidded eyes, and said nothing.

"I mean, the Phoenix Point won't be as potent if you only know half of the technique, and I _really _want Akane-chan to wake up…" Happosai clasped his hands before him and implored with his puppy-dog face. "Please, Cologne-chan? Pleeeeeaaaaaaaaaaase?

The old woman rolled her eyes with a huff. "Oh, all right. But no foolishness, do you understand?

Happosai obediently nodded, jumped on the bed, and moved beside Akane.

"Now show me the other half of the Chart."

His thin hand poked into his _gi_ and produced a withered crumpled sheet. The amazon reached for it and carefully placed the two pieces together.

"Now this makes more sense," she mumbled as they gazed at the completed picture of a human body, with dots specifying the regions of the ancient healing technique. "The Phoenix Point is more than just acupressure. It is the moment – the exact _point­ _– when positive and negative energies balance out in the body; when there is completely no obstruction to the flow of _ki_ ." Cologne briefly smiled. "It is a moment's perfection, a single moment of completion that is needed for revival. With this, we need not wait for years for Akane to awaken; only days."

The amazon glanced at her companion.

"You may be a lecher, but you are highly skilled, so I have no doubt that we will be able to execute this. Tell me one thing though," she kept her half of the chart. "Why are you willingly doing this?"

Happosai shrugged. "Nerima's gotten boring ever since Akane-chan got stuck in this bed. And besides," he smiled innocently. "Stealing her underwear without her getting mad about it isn't so much fun as I thought it would be."

"Unbelievable!"

Cologne bopped him over the head and snatched away the other half of the Phoenix Point Chart before the old man could even recover.

"Hey, give that back!"

"I've had enough, Happy. Now do what you said you'll do and I might forgive you for stealing the Chart from Joketsuzoku."

"But – "

Another threatening glare completely silenced the old man.

Satisfied, Cologne closed her eyes. Breathing in through her nose and out her mouth, she positioned her hands over Akane and felt the energies that flowed through her body. She could sense Happosai doing the same across her, and for a moment she allowed herself to be secure in his presence.

Emptying her mind, Cologne focused on the young woman before her, trying to feel the intricacies of her life-force. All of a sudden her thoughts plunged into a momentary standstill, leaving her in a void of nothingness, before altered awareness seeped through her, and her mind's eye saw _ki_ in all its colors. From far away, she also felt Happosai approach the same state.

Without a word, the Matriarch of Joketsuzoku and the Master of Anything-Goes Martial Arts simultaneously opened their eyes as their hands flew forward as if in their own volition, drawing an intricate pattern over Akane's chest in half a second.

A cool draft seemed to envelope the room, and for a moment, Cologne felt the familiar chill of death descend upon them. Pressing her lips in anticipation, she stared at the young woman before her as gradually the frightening paleness faded from her lips, and a slow, sure warmth emanated from her with certainty.

"It is done," Cologne whispered.

A certain solemnity descended upon them. From that point on, they knew that everything was about to change once more.

"Tell me," Happosai started, his voice taking on a tone that he rarely used. "What made you decide to do this? If Akane-chan wakes up, you very well know that your Great-granddaughter will never have a chance with Ranma."

"A true warrior knows when a battle has been fought for far too long – she ends it with glory, and bows out with grace…"

Cologne looked at him, before reaching for her staff and jumping noiselessly off the bed.

"It was Shampoo's decision. And I respect that."

Happosai blinked in surprise.

The old amazon walked towards the window and looked up at the moon. The thin crescent was already high in the sky. She only had a few hours left to prepare.

"Goodbye, Happy," she suddenly said. "I don't think we will be seeing each other again. Or at least not in a very, very long time."

Happosai scrambled off the bed towards her, but she had already leapt over Ayame and on to the window sill.

"W-wait!"

She stalled, and for one moment, Cologne allowed herself sentimentality.

She gave the old man the faintest of smiles.

"I thank you for everything."

And she was gone.

Happosai longingly stared at the empty window, surprised at the painful tugging somewhere in his chest. But before he could even dwell upon it, a soft moan came from Ayame as her hand moved up to rub her nape.

Fearing discovery, Happosai nimbly jumped over the half-awake nurse and, giving Akane a quick glace, jumped out the window, disappearing into the night.

* * *

Nodoka found him alone in the dojo. 

He sat before a pile of bricks as if in deep thought, his brows furrowed and his lips slightly pouting. For a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the sight; he seemed so young, if not for the shadows that swirled in his eyes.

She slid the _shoji_ closed. The boy looked up.

"Okufuro."

"What are you doing, Ranma?"

"I was…" he scratched his nape and motioned carelessly towards the bricks. "Whenever Akane felt frustrated about something, she'd come here and break those."

"And are you frustrated about something?"

She knew that she didn't have to ask, bus she wanted to hear from him.

"Son?"

"I'm just tired, Okufuro."

There was an uneasy silence. Nodoka sighed and sat beside him.

"Tonight is your fight with Shampoo."

His shoulders slumped under the weight of her words. The motion was not lost on her – keeping at bay the urge to comfort him, she clasped her hands on her lap. The amazon's challenge was something that she didn't want her son to be subjected to, but she knew that it had to be met.

"You have a few hours – have you prepared yourself?"

"I'm not going."

He almost sounded like a child.

"But son – "

"I'm tired, Okufuro, of everything. I'm not fighting."

Nodoka had anticipated his refusal. He had, after all, refused a lot of things since Akane's accident. She understood the boy's sadness, but it was slowly robbing him of his essence, of his life.

It simply would not do.

"Please, darling. She'll hunt you down if you don't."

"Then let her."

"Ranma!"

"Why should I fight?" He said, vigorously shaking his head. "Tell me, Okufuro, why? It didn't do me, or Akane, or anybody any good."

Nodoka sat still for a moment, thinking of what to say next. Taking her silence for disappointment, Ranma rested his hand on hers in an awkward display of comfort.

"I'm sorry. It's just that…a lot of things don't mean much anymore."

She gazed at him before speaking.

"For me, Ranma."

"What?"

"Do it for me."

A mix of emotions clouded his features, and he slightly moved away from her.

Nodoka beat down the guilt that rose from her stomach. It was a low blow, asking her son to do something for her, for she knew that he would never refuse anything she wished for. It was his way of compensating for their lost years, as well as for his "failure" to be the man she had wished him to be – even if for her, he had never failed her in any way.

"Please son," she implored. "Face Shampoo, and I will ask nothing more of you."

Ranma gazed at her, torn between her difficult request and his self-made hell, until finally, he whispered through clenched teeth.

"All right, Okufuro. For you."

Relieved, she reached over and kissed his forehead.

"Thank you."

She rose and left, closing the _shoji_ gently behind her. After a few moments, she heard the unmistakable crack of bricks upon fists.

Nodoka looked up at the sky, where the crescent moon returned her gaze dispassionately. Her only prayer now was for Ranma to be awakened to the truth that the battle was not only between him and Shampoo, but also between him and his demons.

* * *

"Your dress, please." 

There was the soft rustling of cloth and the faint moonlight settled on her pale back marred by fresh bruises and old scars. She glanced at him as she pulled her hair away, her eyes dull and dark.

"Don't you dare try anything perverted, Mousse."

Her voice in their native Mandarin was musical even in rebuke, and he could do nothing but dumbly nod in assent.

"Good. Now," she looked away. "Below the left shoulder blade."

Mousse peeled off the herbal plaster and gently placed it on her skin, careful not to press too heavily.

There would be more injuries to tend to after tonight.

He knew that the only reason why Shampoo allowed him to be this near to her was because Cologne also had to prepare herself to perform her duties as Overseer and Matriarch in the evening's upcoming battle. Shampoo's Kiss of Death was a serious challenge, more so because it was given not to a stranger but to Ranma, who by Joketsuzoku law was her betrothed.

"A little bit to the right now – no, a bit lower – there."

He gazed at her through half-lidded eyes, making his vision slightly blurry until all he could see were traces of cream and lilac. Mousse never really saw what kind of training she had to endure under Cologne; he would only see her after every session, when she would be tired and bruised. He took care of her when the old woman had to attend to the restaurant, and she accepted his attentions without reproach or thanks. Oftentimes he would wonder if all her hard work was necessary – after all, Saotome Ranma doesn't pose as much of a threat anymore. His former rival's spirit was broken, and whatever strength or tenacity that would come from him would only be propelled by desperation and emptiness. Unlike Hibiki Ryouga, he could not harness the power of despair as much as he could harness that of pride.

It was only during the final days of Shampoo's training that Mousse realized that she was not only pushing her body; she was readying her mind and her heart to what was to pass. Whatever be the outcome of the battle, she was to accept it with neither happiness nor sadness.

"A few inches above the tailbone."

He went down on his knees, giving an almost inaudible sigh as he peeled off another plaster with unnecessary ritual. He knew that giving the Kiss of Death was a hard decision to make, yet in spite of all the laws she had disregarded in the past, the traditions of Joketsuzoku still flowed strong in Shampoo's veins and in times of trouble, it was only in them that she found her strength.

But believing that she could survive on strength alone was taking its toll. He could see her quiet suffering in the sagging of her shoulders and in the slight droop of her head.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Huh?"

"Are you sure about this," he whispered to her back. "About tonight. About Ranma. About everything."

"Stupid duck. Of course I am."

Her voice was void of any sadness or sarcasm, yet it made Mousse wince as if he had been struck.

"You know you can retract the challenge anytime, so stop acting so strong, Shampoo."

She looked at him from over her shoulder with a bitter smile on her lips.

"Well stop being a hypocrite. I know you're happy about it. You're free to celebrate. Go on and stop pretending."

"Shut up, Shampoo."

He watched the slight surprise in her eyes. He had never spoken against her, but he knew she couldn't go on like this.

"How do you expect me to be happy if you aren't?"

Something moved across her face and her she looked away, refusing to answer him.

Mousse gazed at her from where he knelt, as faint moonlight illuminated the curves of pale skin, the outline of bare shoulders, the swoop of lilac hair. In spite of their nearness, he could feel the distance slowly growing between them, and yet he accepted the fact that this may very well be one of the last times he'll have her this close.

"I'd rather lose you to your happiness than keep you in sorrow."

A telltale mew escaped her lips, and before he knew it he found himself wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his face in the small of her back.

He heard her gasp, and in almost horror felt warm tears fall on his hands. He held her tighter, trying his best to comfort her, though he knew that she would never find that in him. His lips unconsciously brushed against her skin as he opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was her name.

"Shampoo…"

He whispered it again and again as if it were a mantra, going on long after she flew from his embrace, after the room echoed with emptiness, after the minutes erased her warmth.

A sliver of light caught his eye. Glancing out the window, he found the moon watching him. It sat in silence on its highest point, revealing everything and nothing.

Mousse ran his sleeve of over his eyes and bitterly smiled.

It was time.

* * *

Ukyo licked the beads of sweat forming above her lips. In spite of the cool, calming weather, she couldn't help but feel agitated – the countdown of days was over, and as in the past, there was nothing she could do to stop the upcoming battle. 

She fidgeted, her eyes flitting over the expanse of the empty lot. There were deep cracks on the ground and dead grass on gashed soils. Ryouga had told her earlier that this was where Shampoo and Ranma last met in combat.

The eternally lost boy now stood beside her, his head slightly bowed, as if in deep thought. A bandage around his left wrist peeked from underneath his sleeve; apparently, he had sprained it pretty bad without knowing during his own fight with a berserk Ranma.

"It's almost healed now," he had said. "He may be out of shape, but he still is a formidable opponent."

She knew that only a skilled martial artist could face Ryouga, and the fact that Ranma still managed to hold his own and stand against him gave her a bit of hope; the man he used to be was not dead, merely hiding deep inside him, like a child frighten by a sudden clap of thunder.

If only somebody could call him back out…

The sudden jerk of Ryouga's head gave her a start. Following his gaze, she saw familiar purple locks highlighted by the dim glow of the night.

Ukyo tasted anger in her mouth.

"Shampoo."

Moonlight and lamplight danced with shadows upon her hardened jaw and determined face. She approached surely, clad in her traditional Joketsuzoku silk and armor, twin bonbori in both hands. On either side of her was Cologne and Mousse.

Ukyo folded her arms over her chest.

"Haven't seen you in a while. Been hiding under your blind boyfriend's skirts again?"

"Shampoo no interested in fighting you," the amazon said. "Only Ranma."

She was about to retort when Ryouga stopped her with a quick nudge.

"If I am not mistaken, the Kiss of Death is only given to the enemies of the tribe, and to those who have dishonored a tribe maiden's name," he started. "What's Ranma done this time that has shamed you? Because I really don't recall anything…"

When the young amazon refused to answer, Cologne spoke.

"There are some things that you have yet to understand about our Laws. For now, make do with the knowledge that is battle is a test of strength for both Ranma and Shampoo."

"A test of strength? At a time like this?"

"Now is good a time as any."

"But you know Ranma's situation. He's in no shape to fight."

Cologne leveled him a glare.

"It's the strong who survive. The world doesn't give compensations."

Ukyo felt Ryouga tense up in frustration; thankfully Mousse changed the topic –

"Where is Ranma anyway?"

Blinking in realization, she looked up at the sky. The position of the stars told her that it was a quarter to the hour, and that if Ranma was going to show – part of her wished that he wouldn't – he should show up really soon.

They didn't wait too long. He arrived after a few minutes, flanked by his parents. The young chef jogged towards them.

"Ran-chan!"

"Ucchan…"

Her embrace was quick but fierce.

"Why oh _why _didn't you just forget about this stupid fight?"

"Because he's a Saotome, and a Saotome never backs down from a challenge."

It was Genma who answered her. Ranma fell silent; Nodoka's eyes were unreadable.

Ukyo instinctively stepped back from them in unease.

"Since we are all here, we might as well begin."

The old woman hopped from her staff and settled between the two groups. She looked around, eyeing them one by one, before finally speaking.

"We are gathered here to witness the battle between Shampoo, the war maiden, daughter of Great House of Matriarchs -- and Ranma, her betrothed, son of the Farlands.

The ritual pronounced the challenge as neither light nor ordinary, unlike the ones they had to face almost daily. It was with such formality that Cologne addressed them all, and it frightened Ukyo a little. Her voice was not anymore that of the old woman who owned a ramen restaurant down the street – it was now of a great Joketsuzoku Elder whose strength and wisdom remain untouched by age. The chef realized then the true gravity of the situation.

"I will now speak of the rules that will govern this battle," Cologne was saying. "No on-looker may interfere. To interfere means death of the contender he or she chooses to side with," her eyes narrowed. "I will make sure of that."

The field was suddenly too wide Ukyo, and the sky seemed to swallow her whole.

"The challenger and the challenged will be given the chance to choose their weapons. Shampoo?"

The light-haired woman shook her bonbori.

"Ranma?"

He gave her a blank stare.

"Mousse, give him something."

Ukyo saw Nodoka bite her lips in consternation. She had come to the battle without her sword -- probably as a sign of amity and respect – and now she seemed to regret it.

The Chinese man approached, and with a sharp gesture, two weapons appeared in his hands.

"A sword and a staff," he said. "Your choice."

There was hesitation in Ranma's eyes.

"You have to choose one."

"I… I don't…"

"Those are the rules."

His face fell in resignation.

"…The staff."

Mousse nodded and handed it to him.

"Like most of my weapons, I made it myself. There's a button at the middle – press it once, it retracts, press it again, it extends. After the fight, you can keep it."

"Thanks…" Ranma whispered tiredly. "Listen, about Shampoo – "

Mousse cut him off with a wave, and walked away.

"CONTENDERS! TO YOUR PLACES!"

Ukyo felt Ryouga gently pull her to the sidelines. She let herself be led – there was nothing left to do after all, but wait for the outcome.

Shampoo approached the center of the field; sand slid underneath her soft-shod feet as she gracefully took stance. Ranma stood still, staring at her as if she didn't register in his mind. It was only when Nodoka drew near and whispered to him that he blinked and stepped forward. There was a trapped look in his eyes, but as he snapped open the staff, they reflected no emotion.

It was as if the world held its breath as the old amazon lifted her hand to the sky.

"Ryouga?"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared."

Cologne's hand fell, and it began.

Shampoo pounced; twin bonbori bit empty ground as Ranma leapt backwards. Quickly recovering, he held his staff above his head, blocking and reversing Shampoo's strike in one motion. The young amazon avoided his attack, spinning in the air to land in a crouch and launching herself once more. Metal clang against metal; the calloused hands of the young man deftly slid against the staff as he drew unpredictable circles in quick succession. Shampoo was forced to weave, block, and leap back in slight surprise. Ranma brandished his weapon and again took stance, his body close to the ground and his staff on ready.

"I don't hit girls, Shampoo. But if you insist…"

In spite of herself Ukyo couldn't help but feel a warm rush watching him. Ranma preferred hand-to-hand combat to a battle with weapons – it was only in Mount Phoenix that she saw him with one. To see him handle Mousse's customized staff as if he had owned it his entire life was nothing short of amazing. For a moment, Ukyo totally forgot about everything and she excitedly shook Ryouga's arm.

"Did you see _that_? Where the hell did he learn how to use that? If he just keeps at it, he could beat the crap out of that purple-haired bimbo! Hey," she shook him again. "_HEY! _At least _answer _me!"

Ryouga's eyes remained on the field.

"He's going lose."

"What are you talking about," she exclaimed. "Ran-chan is doing _more_ than holding his own."

"He just got lucky."

"_WHAT?"_

"Ukyo," he said, pulling her closer. "Look at him. He didn't prepare for this. He's distracted. He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want to fight." He discretely motioned towards Shampoo. "Now look at her. She trained for this. She's determined to win. Can't you see how fast she's become? Months ago, she wouldn't have avoided Ranma's attacks and Ranma wouldn't even have to block her strikes – he would simply evade and finish it in less that five blows."

He let her go, breathing through clenched teeth.

"Now…"

An explosion came from the field. Soil and stone flew up in clouds, and as if in slow motion, Ukyo watched Ranma twist into the air in an awkward fashion, his eyes wide in surprise.

"RAN-CHAN!"

He skidded back on the ground, almost landing on his face as he did. Shards of rock had cut through his skin.

Dust settled, revealing Shampoo crouched at the center of a great crater.

"_Bakusai Tenkenstu._" Ryouga hoarsely whispered. "She knows the technique."

Ukyo bit her lips.

"Did Shampoo shock _airen_?"

Ranma blinked hazily, wiping the trickle of blood from his cheek as he looked at her. Something moved in his eyes – something slow and calculating – but it quickly died back into nothingness.

"Though Shampoo have no problem breaking rock before, Great-grandmother want polished technique." The amazon jumped onto solid ground. Her gaze was set; she has completely assessed her opponent. "Shampoo at her best for _airen_ tonight."

"Why are you doing this?" Ranma whispered.

"Is for decision. For end of story. Now, fight."

Another crash echoed in the night as the ground shook beneath the technique. Ranma leapt away, maneuvering in mid-air as the staff spun wickedly in his hands. His brows were furrowed, as if he was trying remember something he couldn't place, and his confusion cost him another blow, one that missed him by a hair's breadth.

Ukyo watched as he quickly recovered and attacked. Ever so slowly, she understood Ryouga's words – at any normal day, Ranma would have faced this challenge head-on, especially if it were a test of strength as Cologne had said earlier. But this was a different situation; there was something terribly, terribly wrong with the way he carried himself. Even his voice didn't have its stubbornness, which was something it always had even in his depression. Ryouga's right – it was as if he wasn't even there. Ranma was just forced to come, and now he was trying to make sense out of the whole thing, though he knew that things had stopped making any sense since Akane's accident.

One could not do battle with such a mindset. She knew that, and she was sure Shampoo did as well.

"_What is she trying to prove?"_

The staff flew with the speed of _Kachu Tenshin Amaguriken_, landing many blows but not enough to completely faze the determined amazon. Genma was screaming from the sidelines – _Hurry up and win, boy! –_ while Nodoka watched with an unreadable expression on her face. Soon Ranma's strikes became blocks, and then he wasn't even attacking at all, merely avoiding getting hit.

Shampoo was relentless. Her form was frighteningly perfect, and she advanced on him without hesitation or mercy that disturbed Ukyo so much that she had to look away.

She could hear the rough sliding of his shoes upon gravel and her almost frustrated cries of anger at his constant evasions.

"Why isn't he fighting? Has he given up? We have to do _something_, Ryouga -- "

"No."

"'No?!'_'_"

"The pattern – " He said, his eyes on the field. "The sidestepping… Don't you see it? Ranma's – "

A strong gust slammed against them. Her hair whipped against her face and Ukyo roughly brushed it away as she felt something in the wind envelope her, something familiar, something that seemed to be the awareness of –

"Ran-chan?"

It was him – not the shell of the man he had become in the past months, but _him_ in all his strength and pride and certainty. It felt as if he had suddenly returned into himself and she almost could not believe it.

"_Ran-chan!"_

Shampoo's eyes widened in shock as she felt it too, and it was then that she realized that he had been moving in circles; that his evasions had been done on purpose.

When Ranma focused on her and took stance, there was no time to escape.

"_HIRYU SHOTEN HA!"_

Cold _ki_ slammed against hot and the resulting tornado was magnificent. Ukyo heard herself cry out, not because of the attack's ferocity, but because she could actually feel _him_ again. His presence was suddenly so immense it was almost frighteningly heady.

She could hear Mousse's voice crack as the wind took Shampoo. The twin bonbori flew in opposite directions and loudly crashed on the ground. Mercilessly, the wind spiraled to the sky.

Ranma relaxed his stance; he just about moved with his old certainty now, and Ukyo almost ran to him if Ryouga didn't hold her back.

"Wait," he said. "Something still feels wrong."

His words had been barely spoken when a loud cry came from within the tornado.

The sharp whistling of the wind gave way to an ominous rumbling. The tornado vacuumed and collapsed into itself, and with a thundering sound the _Hiryu Shoten Ha _exploded, throwing them all to the ground.

Ukyo felt as if she were punched in the gut and she fell on her stomach; aftershocks trembled beneath her.

"Shit…"

Gaining back her balance, she slowly picked herself up. She knew what just happened, but she couldn't bring herself to believe it.

Shampoo emerged from the dust clouds. Blood trickled from where her skin broke and she was panting heavily, but there was a victorious gleam in her eyes.

"She broke the attack…"

The field was quiet, as if reeling from the sudden turn of events. Ranma stood stock still, wide-eyed; his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

"How…"

"_Hiryu Shoten Ha _is not completely undefeatable," Shampoo said, wiping away blood from her face. "_Bakusai Tenketsu_."

"What?"

"It's actually simple," Cologne nodded at him. "You break a _ki_ technique the same way you break stone. It's hard to execute – this is the first time I've seen Shampoo do it satisfactorily – and it's not applicable to all techniques, only to those with tightly focused energies."

Ryouga clenched his fist. "'The same way you break stone…' You find the point where _ki_ is weakest, and that's where you strike with _ki_."

"There's more to it than that, but you understand the basic principle," the old woman smiled faintly.

Ukyo felt the blood drain from her face. From the other side of the field Genma stood in silence while Nodoka's mask of stoicism slowly crumbled. As for Ranma, his eyes seemed lost, and the certainty that he had only moments ago seemed to have died with the blast.

She felt for him, but though he stood before her, he was nowhere to be found.

"He was back, Ryouga. He _was_," she whispered desperately. "He could still do it – "

"No."

"He could."

It was the third time that night he denied her. "Do you know how a tiger is at its fiercest before it dies?"

"Ran-chan is not a tiger."

He looked at her sadly, and said nothing.

Ukyo grit her teeth and cursed under her breath. She felt as if her chest was going to explode; she wanted to lash out it fury and hopelessness and despair because _kami-sama this isn't supposed to happen!_

"_DON'T LET HER DO THIS RAN-CHAN!"_

He followed the sound of her voice, and his eyes searched hers for an explanation she couldn't give – before the amazon once more pounced on him.

"RAN-CHAN!"

She was weaponless, but she moved with lethal grace that she had managed to disarm Ranma even before he could do anything. Ukyo could feel a scream forming in her throat – he was lost now, and he warded her off more than he fought. It was as if fatigue and disbelief had finally taken its toll, and his sense of purpose had been eaten alive by the demons that Shampoo seemed to embody. He didn't want anymore of this crap. She knew that, and she had tried to spare him from it; if only Tofu-sensei hadn't butted in that day she could have done so. But now, to see him like this – he was making too many mistakes, leaving too many openings, not because he wanted to lose, but because he was tired and he didn't know where we went wrong, didn't know what he did that was so wrong that it would all boil down to this…

Then the scream turned into a sob and she was crying. Tears fell down her cheeks and left wet trails upon her neck. She could still hear Genma desperately screaming at his son to win, but she was denied of the sight of him now. Her vision was blurry, and the battle before her seemed like a TV show with bad reception -- she could only see pink and purple and red and black moving under the faint light of the city.

"That's just about it, huh."

It wasn't a question. Ryouga gingerly wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"Ran-chan and Shampoo are both tired. Now it's only about who has the will to win."

"I know."

"It's not even glorious anymore, or pretty, how this fight is ending."

"You and I both know that there's nothing really pretty about things like this, Ukyo-san."

Everything seemed clumsy now. Shampoo threw a punch that Ranma blocked – when he answered with one of his own she dropped to the ground and swept his legs from underneath him. Ranma fell unceremoniously, and before he could even push himself up Shampoo jumped on his chest and pinned his arms on the ground with her knees.

"You…"

Ranma wordlessly stared at her as she closed her hand around his neck and lifted the other for the final blow.

"_Wo yao pha së ni._"

_I will kill you._

Her fist fell and Ukyo screamed.

It was over.

Ukyo shut her eyes tight, fighting hard to keep a desperate wail at bay. Did she really do it? She strained her ears to hear the wet sound of bone and blood, but there was nothing.

It was quiet – too quiet, until a soft whimper came from the field.

Ukyo looked up, wiping away her tears with her palms.

They were poised awkwardly; he lay on the ground with his head tilted back, while she straddled him with one hand still clasped around his throat. The fist had stopped a short distance from his face, shaking.

"_Airen…_"

Shampoo then wilted like a flower upon Ranma, her tangled hair falling like a lilac canopy between them as her tears fell upon his face.

"I can't…"

There were only her soft mews and Ranma's ragged breaths. Ukyo couldn't understand anything, but for the moment, she didn't care – Ran-charn was alive, Shampoo couldn't do what she wanted done and maybe those crazy amazons could just pack their things and finally leave them in peace.

"Shampoo. You have to make a decision."

The young woman raised her head and gazed at her Great-grandmother. More tears slid down her face as she shook her head in despair.

"No kill Ranma… Cannot…"

"Then it will be the other way."

Shampoo bit her lip to hold back a sob and nodded. Wearily, she once again bent over Ranma who had made no move to stand.

"_Airen…"_

"I don't know what you want with me."

He stared at her. There were storms in those eyes, but the amazon did not shy away from them.

"Shampoo want simple thing – love."

"Is that why you had to drag me into another fight?"

"No," she whispered. "Is because Shampoo not anymore want. Shampoo give. "

And then she kissed him deeply, longingly, running her hands upon his cheeks before burying her face on the crook of his neck and finally, pushing herself to rise. Motioning towards Cologne, Shampoo ceremoniously lifted her right arm.

Ranma stayed on his back, staring at the sky.

"The battle has been decided." The Elder said. "I hereby declare Shampoo as winner and champion."

No one spoke, and no sense of victory hung in the air.

"It is according to the Laws of Joketsuzoku that if the betrothed of a war maiden proves to be unworthy of his bride, then he will be challenged to a battle. If he wins, he keeps his right to her hand in marriage. If he loses, then maiden decides his fate – death, or banishment." The old woman gazed at Ranma. "Our tribe finds no excuse for weakness."

Genma stepped forward. "W-wait, what does this all mean? Was this to see whether or not their engagement will push through?"

"You are as crude as the panda you are, but yes, you are right."

"Then since Ranma lost, he won't be engaged to Shampoo anymore?"

The young amazon visibly stiffened at his words, and Cologne looked at him disapprovingly.

"Yes – your son is no longer worthy to be Shampoo's husband. To the Tribe, he is dead."

Genma happily crowed –_ losing could be winning after all! _– until Nodoka sharply silenced him, her eyes dangerously cold and unemotional.

Ever so slowly, the pieces fell into place and Ukyo finally understood what had just happened – Shampoo had accepted the reality that Joketsuzoku laws could never tie Ranma down. The engagement would never have worked, and knowing that she had the power to at least give him some semblance of happiness, she had given him back his freedom, and in turn, restored her own. The laws had loopholes – the battle was simply a formality, though it was one that Shampoo had to win.

"'_For decision… For a story's end…' Kami-sama…"_

She knew how painful it was to let someone go.

"Let us finish it," Cologne raised her voice in ritual. "Shampoo chooses that you, Saotome Ranma, are to be banished from Joketsuzoku, never again to be seen in her territories or to be in the presence of any of her children." She paused. "But we are mere visitors in your land. Therefore it is us who are exiled, us who will leave."

Another farewell.

Ukyo felt a sense of loss. It was all too sudden. She gazed at the old woman, at Mousse, and at Shampoo, who had moved away to retrieve her bonbori.

"Are – are you really going?" She heard herself ask. "Now?"

"Is what Spatula Girl want, right?"

"Not this way, damnit! What the heck is up with your stupid laws anyway?!"

The lilac-haired girl looked at her and sadly smiled.

"Stupid laws is tradition. Tradition Shampoo's life. Tradition now save Ranma's. That be Shampoo's final gift."

Gravel crunched underneath his hands as Ranma sat up, his brows furrowed and his lips a tight bow. She looked at him desolately and then steeled herself.

"Yes. Finally done." she whispered. _"Bie liao."_

Without looking back, she was gone.

Mousse was silent for most of the battle, and he stayed silent still – he looked at them though dim glasses, as if taking stock of everything, before leaving without so much as a goodbye.

Cologne was about to do the same when Ranma spoke up.

"So that's it? That's all there is to it? You're all leaving?"

"Yes. That is the way of it."

"I don't even have a say?"

"You've had your chance. You lost."

"That battle was a joke."

"If you knew that you would be free of the engagement if you lost, would you have still done anything to win?"

"That's not fair."

"Answer me."

Ranma bit his lips and rested his arms on his knees; his dirty fingers rubbed at the grime and blood on his skin.

"No. No I wouldn't have," he whispered. "I'd probably just throw away the fight."

"You wouldn't even have tried?"

"I don't know. I really don't know."

The old woman regarded him sadly.

"Then you really are not worthy of Shampoo anymore."

"I'm sorry -- "

"That's enough," she said in gentle rebuke. "It is enough."

The Matriach of Joketsuzoku then bowed her farewell to him and to all of them, and disappeared into the night.

Ranma hit the ground with his fists before roughly standing up and walking away.

"Ran-chan…"

He ignored her.

"Son, wait."

"I did what you wanted, Okufuro."

"Ranma – "

"Please leave me alone for now. I'm tired. Please."

"Oi watch your mouth boy – "

"Genma. Leave him be."

The man looked at Nodoka then back at his son. Exasperated, he threw up his hands with a disgusted expression on his face, before following his wife as she left the field, opposite Ranma's direction.

Ukyo watched the proceedings in silence. Ryouga pulled her arm to leave, but she remained where she stood.

"That was it then. And that quickly too."

It was the last time she would ever see Shampoo, Mousee, and Cologne. She knew that.

She had always thought that young amazon would leave with drama and flair. The battle was drama enough, but the moment when she finally left them, that exact point when she looked away – Ukyo could almost hear the ties that bind break. There was suddenly an emptiness that she hadn't anticipated.

She lost something that night. Everybody did. And for all the pain and the tragedy, she felt so numb that it was anti-climactic.

Goodbyes happen in a blinking that there wasn't even enough time to feel.

"Ukyo…"

"Give me a minute, Ryouga."

The clouds sailed across the sky, covering the light of an impassive moon.

She lost something that night, but she didn't know exactly what it was. And she never realized how much it meant to her until it was gone.

* * *

It was way past midnight when Ranma found himself inside Akane's room. He had entered through the window as he always did, and now he knelt before her bed, his eyes lowered. 

He was still trying to process everything. He had lost, goddamnit. Shampoo had totally beaten the crap out of him and he was almost embarrassed.

_You let a girl beat you up?_

The _Hiryu Shoten Ha_ had been broken. It was crazy, actually, how she managed to do it. That old ghoul was definitely one heck of a teacher. He could probably do it too, now that he had seen it, and _hey, maybe later I could find something to break…_

He looked up and her face brought him back to reality. Akane lay quietly in the dim lighting, and he felt his chest tighten.

It didn't matter, he realized once more. What did it matter now that she was like this?

He swallowed the dry lump in his throat. Akane lay before him but she was well beyond his reach, and now Shampoo, Mousse and Cologne had left. He didn't care much about the engagement with the amazon, really. He might've followed Shampoo around when she fell under the Inverted Jewel's curse, but it was only because he didn't want to lose her. She was important. They all were. And now they were gone.

The realization of it slowly trickled upon him and it chilled him. How come people never stayed? Shampoo could've thrown those stupid rules out the window. They could've become really good friends…

_People just come and go, don't they? Just like that, they come and go._

He was so very clumsy. He couldn't even keep the people that matter the most.

Ranma shifted and sat cross-legged on the floor, picking up the customized staff that Mousse had given him. It had good weight and balance, even now that it was retracted. He spun it in his wounded fingers – it was the only memento he had of him and the rest of them now.

Fighting never brought about anything good. He didn't want anymore of it. It had come to a point where he had resented the way he had lived his life. All the training, the traveling, everything; being heir to the Saotome School of Anything-Goes Martial Arts had brought him nothing but sadness.

"_But what about me?"_

He gave a start.

"Akane?"

It didn't seem that she had spoken, but he was sure he heard her voice. He stood up and moved closer to her bedside. Somehow, she seemed different that night; her lips had deepened their color and her cheeks had a pinkish tinge, and yet for all her comeliness, looking at her was like stabbing a knife into his own heart.

It's been so long, so very long, and still she remained asleep. So many times he tried waking her up to no avail. Here she was still, oblivious to everything that had happened.

She was the only thing in his life that he would never regret.

"Akane…"

He sat beside her and touched her cheek. He missed her so much. He would have thrown everything away for her.

"_Maybe I already have…"_

Hallway lighting spilled into the room as the door opened. His mother stood outside, her face shadowed.

"Ranma."

She stepped inside and flicked on the overhead lamp. The sudden brightness made Ranma squint.

"Okufuro."

She had slipped on a clean _yukata_, and she smelled of tea and flowers. He, on the other hand, still had dirt and dried blood all over him, and he was almost embarrassed to look at her.

"About the battle a while ago – "

"Okufuro," he said. "Let's not talk about it."

"No. We _are_ going to talk about it."

Her eyes were unreadable, and Ranma suddenly felt light-headed and nauseous. He didn't know what was coming, and he honestly didn't want to deal with it.

"You lost, son."

"Yeah. That's how it goes. Somebody wins and somebody loses. Nuthin' wrong with that."

"Something is most definitely wrong if you threw away the fight."

His head snapped up. "I didn't throw away the fight, Okufuro."

"Maybe you didn't," she said. "But you didn't give it your best. You gave up easily."

"She broke my attack!"

"Such things never stopped you before."

"WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"

His mother fell silent, and her face hardened into an expressionless mask. He looked at her, tired and frustrated, unable to understand why she would push him like this.

"You asked me to fight and I did what you wanted. I lost. I'm sorry." He shook his head. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

The air was heavy with anxiety.

"You were never like this before, son."

"I'm sorry for not living up to your expectations."

"I only thought that you were stronger than this."

"I have my limits, don't you understand that?"

"Ever since Akane's accident you've slowly deteriorated."

"What do you want me to do? Jump for joy?"

"I don't appreciate the sarcasm, Ranma."

"And I don't appreciate you doing this to me!" He stood up and roughly ran both his hands down his face. "You're my _mother! _You of all people should understand!"

"How can I understand the fact that you're throwing your life away?"

"MY FIANCEÉ IS HALF-DEAD, OKUFURO!" He heard himself shout. "And it's all my – "

He could feel it now; a deliberate stirring deep in his chest. It was empty, hollow, and for everything that he had gone through, he was so very willing to succumb to it if it would give him peace. Everything seemed dark to him, and those that he lost now lay quietly in that bed, ever so slowly slipping away.

"I'm just a boy," he uttered softly. "I can't be all of those things you want me to be. I can't even save – "

He choked on his words, and left them hanging. There was a tiny voice inside him that called out for the woman who watched him; a tiny pair of hands who reached out for an embrace that never came. He stomped the feeling to silence and stood before her, swallowing the bitterness in his mouth.

"And because of that you're giving everything up?"

Ranma gaped at her, unable to say anything, anger and sadness and disbelief battering him one after the other and it _hurt_ so much that she would be like this at a time like this…

"But... you're my mother."

She looked at him intently and said, "As your mother, it is my responsibility to see to it that you stop all this foolishness. You've been wallowing in self-pity, and it simply would not do.

"Okufuro – "

"Once your father pledged that if you didn't become a man among men, I would have the permission to punish you. Things are different now, but now I am reviving that oath. So I am giving you a week, Ranma. A week to train and to get back in shape. Then you will fight me."

His eyes grew wide.

"Wh-what are you saying?"

"It's the only way I could make you understand. Don't bother running away; I will find you. You don't want to anger me now, do you?"

"Okufuro!"

"A week," she said as she opened the door.

"Wait!"

She looked at him, her face impassive.

How could he tell her? How could he make her understand? Times have changed, and there were so many things that didn't matter anymore. He just wanted to live a quiet life, without people constantly hunting him down, to be his own person and not the Ranma that they had made him to be. He had lost so much and he knew he deserved what he wanted – but now this? How could own _mother_ challenge him to a fight? Why couldn't she get it? Was it so hard to understand that he… he just…

"I love her."

It came out softly through clenched teeth, and as it did he felt so weak, as if his life and soul had been extinguished in one breath. He didn't know what it had to do with anything at the moment, but he felt it was the answer to everything.

"Akane… she…"

He lowered his head, watching the carpet swirl beneath him as he felt his eyes grow heavy.

"A week, Ranma." His mother repeated. "And this time, make sure you win."

She ignored his words the door closed with a click.

Ranma remained still long after she left.

First it was Akane. Then it was Shampoo. And now, his own mother.

Slowly, he approached the bed and knelt at its side. He rested his forehead on the blanket before gazing at her stillness.

She was still so beautiful.

Ever so gently, he wrapped his arm around her waist, and buried his face on her open palm. He breathed in her familiar scent and felt the warmth of her spill beneath his touch.

Here. Just here. If she never woke up, then this was where he would always want to be.

* * *

Nodoka walked down the stairs and out to the porch, passing by Genma as she did. 

"Hey – "

She ignored him and crossed the courtyard, padding towards the dojo.

"Nodoka – "

She slid open the _shoji_ and stared into the darkness of the hall. She was about to turn on the lights when she felt a warm hand around her wrist.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to practice," she said, not meeting her husband's gaze. "I'm giving your son a wake-up call."

"You challenged him?"

She shrugged her shoulders and tried to pull away. His grip tightened.

"Nodoka."

"Let me go."

"NODOKA."

He pulled her to him and she had no choice but to look at his eyes. They were dark behind his glasses, and they held her still.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I am."

"Are you going to be serious with him?"

"Yes."

"Do you think he can handle it?"

"I don't know. But I have to make him understand – "

"Are you scared?"

She gazed at him in silence, biting her lips in nervousness, and suddenly, all she could see was the dull brightness of the moonlight.

Genma roughly pulled her close, and in the warmth of his arms, Saotome Nodoka cried.

* * *

_to be continued..._

* * *


	9. Submerged

Disclaimer: Ranma ½ and all its characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi. All hers. But the story belongs to me. Any unauthorized copying, lending, or distribution without the author's consent is punishable by law. Violators shall be subjected to investigation by police agencies and to criminal prosecution. Then again, I might just throw a tantrum.

* * *

Lunar Ember Presents

A Ranma ½ Fanfiction

**WITHOUT HER**

**Part 9:**

**Submerged**

_If all of the strength_

_and all of the courage_

_come and lift me from this place,_

_I know I could love you much better than this…_

_full of grace._

_- Sarah Mclachlan_

* * *

Maybe it was because she missed the old days. Maybe it was because she could only reminisce, but for some strange reason she had the urge to place an old photograph of them in her apron pocket, feeling slightly reassured by its presence.

She had pulled it out now as she sat on the _engawa_ amidst unfolded laundry. It was old and tattered, but it made her smile all the same. She traced the faces frozen in smiles – hers, her imouto's, and the face of the man she had loved all these years, but had long ago decided that it was not meant to be.

Oh, she had always known how he felt about her. She had seen how looked at her, sensed the chaos that she brought to his otherwise orderly and logical existence. She had always known how he clumsy he becomes in her presence, and in a way it was flattering, even if it she rather that he remained himself – if only to avoid the mess that usually followed.

But she had chosen to be oblivious to his emotions. She realized that by innocently smiling she was giving the two of them what they both wanted. For him, her smile was enough to make his day. For her, it was something that hid her feelings. She had long known that their romance was something that was not meant to be, for she had already promised herself to her family. She had already accepted her role as both mother and sister, and she had contented herself in finding her own happiness in theirs.

_Still…_

A bitter smile touched her lips. _Still_, she thought, _it hurt_. It hurt to hear from him that he feared her, illogical as it might have sounded. His fear, and whatever it was that caused it, was something that gave a period to their story. Guiltily, she realized that she enjoyed how their relationship was in some sort of limbo. She enjoyed the flirtation and the chase. She learned to find comfort in that, confided that she will always have him to run to in the end.

_It's sad_, she thought. She lived in an illusion after all.

"That's a pretty picture, Kasumi-neechan."

Nabiki gently pushed away the laundry to sit beside her. "Look at Akane-chan," she said. "She was so cute back then."

She chuckled, "Why? Isn't she cute now?"

"She is, but she was way cuter when she was small and innocent." Nabiki took the photo from her hands. "Oh, and Tofu-sensei's so young here!"

Kasumi's smile faltered. "Y-Yes, he is."

"Did you receive the flowers he left you?"

Her eyes slightly widened. Yes, she received the flowers Tofu left beneath the _noren_, but…

"… how did you know?"

Nabiki handed her back the photo. "I saw him put it down by the kitchen door. I don't think he saw me. He looked so sad…" Her younger sister gave her a side-long glance. "Want to tell me what happened?"

Kasumi sighed, and gazed towards the garden. The koi pond reflected the sun-blasted clouds that covered the sky. The air was humid and smelled of rain.

The card on the bouquet of white roses had said "Forgive me". She remembered staring at it, unsure of what to make of it. Was it an apology for what he had said? Or was it for the unexpected end to their story that never once truly began? But then again, who was she to blame him for being uncertain, when she played the naiveté for years?

"I don't really know," she heard herself answer in a small, broken voice.

The floorboards creaked from the corridor. As if her thoughts had conjured him, there Tofu stood, silent and wide-eyed.

She looked at him, and he was as immobile as a deer on headlights. She could not read him – she used to do so easily before. Not being able to bear his gaze, she looked away, up to the sun-blasted clouds, until the whiteness of them hurt her eyes.

She heard him leave, and all was silent.

"Oneechan…?"

"I don't really know," she whispered once more, slowly closing her eyes. She could still see his outline in the darkness – swirling, swirling, until it faded into nothingness.

* * *

He stood before Hiro's grave. He didn't think that the bastard deserved incense or flowers, so he didn't bring any. After all, it was because of him that Akane was still the way she is. He would get no respect from him.

_But it's my fault that you're dead, isn't it?_

The voice in his head was dull and hollow - totally the opposite of what he felt. In truth, he was mad at himself more than at Hiro, because if he had managed to quickly finish the battle in the first place, he probably wouldn't have killed him, Akane would have been okay, and he wouldn't have to fight his mother.

He thought of Nodoka's face the night Shampoo defeated him. There was nothing in her eyes but disappointment, and part of him couldn't blame her - after all, not only was he cursed with femininity half the time, he has also turned into a spineless pansy. What kind of heir would one who didn't want to fight make?

But the rest of him was outraged, furious, and hurt because during the time that he needed her comfort most, she never gave it. You'd think that there would be compassion in a mother who hasn't seen her son for more than a decade, but there was none in Saotome Nodoka. Maybe he really didn't know her after all.

"Ranma-kun?"

He felt Ayame approach him, but he couldn't move an inch. He still didn't know how to act around her after the revelation of her relationship with Hiro; he wanted to apologize but he wanted to be angry, and this emotional turmoil ended up with him having knots in his stomach and a heavy weight on his chest.

The nurse brushed passed him to put a bouquet of sunflowers on the grave. "I didn't expect to see you here, of all places."

She was right . What was he doing here anyway?

"I can leave if you like."

"Oh no, please, stay," she smiled up at him. "I like having company when I visit him."

Ranma looked away. He heard a match being lit and smelled incense being burned.

"Hiro was probably like you back in the day."

"Don't you compare me with that - "

Ayame smiled sadly at the grave, and Ranma inwardly cussed. "I'm sorry. I – I didn't mean - "

She shook her head. "It's understandable, don't worry. You never knew him before, after all."

He watched her whisper a few lines of prayer. He had left the dojo that morning to pass by the Nekohanten, hoping to see Shampoo, Mouse, and Cologne serving customers as they used to do, but he was greeted with an abandoned restaurant and a door bolted shut.

_So they really left_. Ranma took it in for what it was, ignoring the gnawing pain in his chest, and walked around Nerima, convincing himself that not much has changed, not much has changed at all.

In his search for answers , somehow, he ended up here, standing before the person who had started it all.

"The Masahiro of old didn't know what to do with himself," Ayame suddenly spoke after long minutes of silence. "He trained in kempo, and he was good at it, but he didn't have any purpose for it. There was no dojo to be inherited, or quests for secret techniques – he just learned it and it was good at it, but it had no meaning for him." She smiled sadly. "Yuri gave that to him."

Ranma sighed. This was awkward, and he wanted to leave, but out of respect for the woman who had been taking care of Akane, he willed himself to remain.

"Yuri was too wild for her own good," Ayame continued. "She spoke before she thought, and acted before she spoke. That kind of personality was fun most of the time, but it also always got her into trouble." She smiled. "Hiro saved Yuri from a man who tried to punch her in the gut because she had kicked his crotch. That was their first meeting."

"Why was she kicking a man's balls?"

"He had lost a bet, and he didn't want to pay up," Ayame stood, "From then on, the two were inseparable. I didn't know how it happened, really. How they went from friendship to love. All I know is that with Yuri, he found a reason worth fighting for."

It was a sad story, Ranma thought. But everybody had their share of sad stories.

"Why are you telling me this? If it's for me to forgive Hiro then I don't think you should get your hopes up."

"No. No it's not." Ayame's voice was suddenly clear. "Don't you see, Ranma? He was like you! You have found your purpose in Akane-chan, and now that she remains in coma, do you even know what your purpose is? What exactly you live for?" She clutched his shoulders roughly. "Hiro didn't, and look at what happened to him. I don't want the same thing to happen to you."

Ranma shook her off, both furious and confused. "I ain't that person lying under that," he pointed at the marker, stepping away from her. "And you have no right to ask me about my purpose when you don't even know anything about me."

He dashed away before he could hear her speak, his heart pounding in anger. He etched Akane's face in his mind, erasing the fact that some of Ayame's words rang true, and that all of a sudden he felt so very lost.

* * *

The bright, glaring afternoon finally gave way to rain, and the _pitter-patter_ on the roof echoed in the silence of the dojo. Kasumi sat with Nabiki, her father, and Genma, and yet her mind was on somebody who was not present.

_Tofu-sensei…_

The sound of _shoji_ sliding open woke her from her reverie. Looking up, she saw Nodoka enter, not in her usual kimono, but in _hakama_ and _gi_. (It was strange, Kasumi thought, how natural the outfit looked on her.) The family sword was held close to her chest, nestled in its familiar green covering. Giving all of them an easy smile, the older woman sat perpendicular to them, folding her legs beneath her and laying the weapon on one side.

They waited in silence.

Kasumi took the chance to discreetly study her. Though she claimed a long time ago that she knew little about swordsmanship, she always thought that Saotome Nodoka was more than what she said she was. A certain aura surrounded her, as if she was gentle as much as she was dangerous. The day she met her she realized that though Ranma's father was to be given credit for the boy's technique, his mother should be acknowledged for his flair. Dexterity and grace were two different things. Ranma had both, and it was an undefeatable combination heightened by his own talent, instinct and drive.

A drop of water seeped from the ceiling and slid down her cheek. Kasumi looked up, absently wiping it away.

It seemed like the rain would not be letting up anytime soon.

"Where's Ranma?"

Nodoka's question pierced the strained silence. Genma cleared his throat.

"I don't think I've seen him the entire day – "

"I'm here, Oyaji."

Ranma stepped in and sharply shut the screen door behind him. Without a word he sat on the far end of the dojo, opposite his mother.

"They look so much alike," Nabiki whispered.

"Yes. Yes they do."

"Do they really have to go through this?"

"I wish they didn't," she slowly shook her head. "I think it's such a shame…"

Kasumi was unnerved by the calmness of her own voice. Her father fidgeted beside her.

"Well son, I guess it boils down to this," Nodoka said, her face expressionless. "Have you prepared yourself?"

His silence answered for him.

"Oh Ranma…"

The green cloth loosened of its bindings.

"My dearest Ranma…"

The hands that Kasumi had known to be gentle now held hilt and sheath with frightening certainty. Nodoka stood up and pulled out her weapon, moving with her usual grace and poise. For a moment the Tendo-child felt disoriented – _is it going to start now? _ It all seemed unreal; no ritual, no bantering, not even unwanted household guests. _This isn't how it's supposed to be, _she thought. _Something crazy usually stops things as serious as this from happening. Where is it? Where is everybody?_

Seconds stretched to minutes. Kasumi watched deep brown tendrils drift like silk as Nodoka moved to stance; watched Ranma's eyes widen in realization that this was really happening, that this was his mother and there was no way out.

It seemed like she was flying when she launched herself towards him.

The world shattered into motion at impact. Wood broke beneath steel as Nodoka's sword bit the dojo floor; leaping upward, Ranma maneuvered in mid-air and landed behind her.

"Okufuro don't - !"

The blade flashed wickedly in the light, moving so lethally that Kasumi felt nauseous with fear. This was the first and only time that she saw their Obaa-sama like this; she was calm and focused, with no trace of hesitation. Always remaining close to the ground, she stepped with such precision that she seemed like dancing, and it was only the instinct that his life-long training had created that kept Ranma safe from her strikes.

"You have to fight me, my dear," she said as she recovered from an attack. "You can't just forever avoid me."

Her scolding almost made the ordeal trivial.

"Okufuro, please – "

"If you don't fight, you're sure to get hit."

"Wait – "

"Ranma…"

"WAIT!"

Nodoka slid back for a spin – Kasumi distinctly saw the fluttering of her sleeves as she moved in a graceful circle, the sword speeding in a horizontal arc towards her son's chest.

"RANMA-KUN!"

He side-stepped and twisted; with a sharp gesture Mousse's staff appeared and snapped open in his hand, just in time to block Nodoka's follow-through.

Metal clang against metal, and for Kasumi the world seemed to pause around the mother and child poised as if in a tableau, her sword perpendicular to his staff, her eyes digging deep into his.

"I – I'm sorry!"

Fear and hurt moved across Ranma's face. _To lift a weapon against his mother…_

"So you kept that Chinese boy's gift," Nodoka said, smiling. "That's good."

"Okufuro please don't make me fight you anymore."

The smile grew wider, gentler, and Nodoka leapt backwards to once again take stance.

Kasumi felt her right hand tremble and she tightly clasped it in her left. "Somebody has to stop this," she whispered. "Otousan, Nabiki… please do something."

"What do you want me to do," her younger sister asked. "Jump between them?"

"Please stop being sarcastic!"

"I'm not! You know that I'm no match for those two!"

Poorly masked dread shone in her eyes. Though she never pursued it, Nabiki knew martial arts. In fact so did Kasumi, but it's been years since they both practiced. None of them were at par with Nodoka and Ranma. And even if their father could stop them, she knew that he did not have the right to. Neither did they.

Outside, the rain continued to pour. Its rhythmic patter was almost a distraction to the fight that ensued, and it nearly drowned the sound of quick footsteps on the wooden floors.

Ranma dodged a wide sweep and the blade glimmered in the glaring lights. Nodoka landed lightly, and launched herself for a quick strike. It seemed to Kasumi that Nodoka's technique revolved around spirals and speed, with her body always close to the ground, her movements always fluidly circular.

_And if it were only about speed…_

"Ranma's girl form is faster than his male form," Nabiki seemed to read her mind. "Do you think we should have him change?"

"I think that would be inappropriate, imouto, and we don't even know if the girl form is faster than Obaa-sama. Still…"

"What?"

"Something's not right," she said, her worry suddenly tempered with unusual curiosity which made her feel all the more anxious.

"With Ranma? Well gee, thank you for noticing just now."

"Not with him," she bit her lips. "With her mother."

Though seemingly oblivious to most things, somehow, she had always been observant. Kasumi watched as the woman delivered another strike which Ranma automatically blocked. Nodoka still looked fresh and unperturbed, and as far as the fight was going, she had already managed to give him cuts and bruises. Ranma for his part was doing nothing but block, and he still hadn't stopped trying to talk her out of it. Kasumi stared as Nodoka horizontally slashed.

"She's a split-second too late."

"What?"

"Her strikes are always a split-second too late, Nabiki."

The younger girl licked her lips.

"She's holding back?"

"I don't know. It doesn't seem like she is."

"All right," Nodoka said as she paused in mid-attack. "This isn't going anywhere. You always manage to block my strikes but you wouldn't attack me.

"I -"

"Let's do something about that, all right?" The woman smiled, and disappeared before him.

Ranma's eyes grew wide as he realized that her movements were lost to him; there was no time to predict her attack, or even to take stance.

It caught him fully on the chest like a great blast of wind so concentrated that it threw him clear across the hall. Kasumi felt herself lunge towards the boy as she watched his head snap forward at the initial impact before being thrown back by both pain and recoil. He fell on the floor with a dull thud, and for a frightening moment she thought he was dead; dead as blood slowly trickled down his open mouth.

The dojo stilled in shock, and the rain echoed into emptiness.

Nodoka approached her son, her sword held loosely in one hand. Her eyes were unreadable, and she seemed paler than she truly was; her lips slightly trembled as she whispered:

"_Ten no Ryuu."_

"She didn't want to do that, but she told me she'd be serious," came Genma's voice. "The Dragon of Heaven. I haven't seen that in a very long time."

Kasumi turned to see her father give him a look of disbelief.

"_Ten no Ryuu – _an old technique that uses air pressure as substitute for the blade. It's difficult to master, and can only be executed with great control – how did she – "

"Before we got married, her peers used to call her _Yorukaze._"

Soun's eyes widened in recollection.

"'Yes… _'as silent as evening shadows and as fierce as storm gusts…'_"

Kasumi suddenly felt light-headed. She realized that she knew little about her Obaa-san, and now she could see it – a woman highly esteemed in her own dojo as well as in others; one who respected the sword enough to know that its true place was in its sheath, only to be brandished when there were no options left…

And brandished it she did, without fear or hesitation, no matter who her opponent was.

Ranma coughed, wincing in pain as he slowly pushed himself up.

"Why are you doing this? You know I'll never fight you."

"That's the problem."

In contrast to her earlier display of strength, Nodoka knelt before him and prompted him to sit.

"Let me see," she whispered, gently running her fingers over his abdomen. "Does it hurt?"

"It's just a scratch…"

"My proud boy. I know it hurts a lot." She wiped the sweat from his brow. "But you have to get up now. The fight isn't over yet."

"_Why not?"_

Nodoka walked to the other end of the dojo.

"Because, Ranma, you've lost more than the will to fight."

She faced him, holding her sword sure and steady.

"You've lost the will to live."

Kasumi's eyes widened as she finally understood the reason for it all.

Being on the road since childhood, Ranma learned about living the hard way; everything was based on survival, and life lessons were taught with fists. Understanding would always come to him in the battlefield, not because he was stupid to learn under normal circumstances, but because that was the way he was brought up.

"_Somebody always has to pound some sense into him. Literally."_

It sounded absurd, but it was the truth. And now, Obaa-sama had taken matters into her hands; depression was slowly eating the boy inside out, and still he clung to it like a stubborn child. He had unconsciously receded from the world, which was frighteningly out-of-character for a person like him, whose mere presence usually filled an empty room.

He could not go on hiding in his own shadows. Kasumi knew that. So did Nodoka.

The woman silently shot towards the boy, disappearing before him to reappear behind him, the blade scraping against the staff in a shower of sparks.

"I haven't lost the will to live, Okufuro."

"I've been around long enough to recognize desperation."

A low sword-swipe caused Ranma to leap back, and he quickly turned to catch a follow-through.

"If I lost the will to live I won't be here. I ain't dead yet."

"To me it seems that you want to be."

"Well it looks like my mother has every intention of helping me with it!"

The boy's free hand slammed against wood as he shot upward. Nodoka followed suite.

"I'm not trying to finish you, Ranma."

Her blade met his staff and they landed locked against each other.

"I'm trying to teach you."

The woman pushed and leapt, slashing the air. The pressure of her strike crashed into Ranma that the dojo floor broke beneath him, and before he could even recover, his mother was upon him. He dodged the sword that whistled before his face, only to be caught on the chest by the sheath that she now brandished.

"Two-handed swordsmanship," Kasumi whispered. Ranma's eyes seemed out of focus, but another attack brought him back to reality.

"Fight me."

"I ain't doin' it!"

"Stubborn child!"

Nodoka spun and struck; her sleeves fluttered like wings as she moved to the cadence of her weapons' humming. She was lethally quick and graceful, and Ranma could do nothing but block as his mother closed upon him like a silent maelstrom.

"Onee-chan," Nabiki turned to her. "This has to stop. Now."

Kasumi bit her lips. The woman before her moved without pause and it was beautifully horrifying that she couldn't take her eyes off her, as much as she couldn't take the nagging fact out of her mind:

"She's a half-step too late…"

"What good is a half-step if she's hell-bent on gutting Ranma?" Nabiki clutched her arm. "Akane wouldn't want a dead fiancé, damn it!"

"_No…"_ she thought. _"No, Akane wouldn't."_

Slowly, Kasumi stood up –

"Obaa-sama!"

- only to be pulled down by Genma.

"You wouldn't want to do that," he gruffly said.

"But Ranma-kun – "

"This is a family matter."

"But Ranma-kun _is _family," Kasumi felt tears stinging her eyes and she blinked them away. "I will not watch him be hurt like this."

The man stared at her through his glasses, and slowly shook his head.

"Don't. Please. Trust Nodoka."

A sharp gust shot past her as the _Ten no Ryuu_ took Ranma before crashing against the wall and leaving a large hole at its wake.

The rain's pattering grew more pronounced and a chilly breeze blew into the hall. Ranma clumsily leaned on his staff, his blue-gray eyes as dark as the storm-drenched night.

"Beat me up as much as you want," he panted heavily. "But I'll never fight you."

Loose tendrils slid down Nodoka's forehead as she slowly turned towards her son, her face hauntingly devoid of any emotion.

"Why have you thrown away your life?" She dropped the sheath and it echoed with a hollow clunk. "You have always been such a strong, proud boy – so sure of yourself, unafraid of anything…"

"Things have changed, Okufuro," Ranma said, his eyes lowered. "I guess I figured out that I can't always win, that I can't always protect everybody, especially – "

"Akane?"

Kasumi saw Ranma flinch as if he had been struck. Slowly, Nodoka paced towards the boy, her sword held loosely in her hand. "Ah, yes. Your fiancée. The poor little thing is indefinitely indisposed, isn't she?"

The boy's shoulders tensed, and Kasumi could not at all believe what was coming out of her Obaa-sama's lips. Her voice was gentle, and for all that there were tones of almost-mockery.

"I like Akane-chan," Nodoka moved languidly, oblivious to the sting of her words. "It's sad that bad things have to happen to nice people."

There was no answer, and the woman's slow pacing brought her before her son.

"You think it's all your fault, right? So if somebody else comes and takes her from you, you'll just wallow in your little world and whine about how useless _kempo_ is and how 'you can't always win'?"

Her hand held the hilt in a tight fist.

"You will not even fight for her anymore, is that it? You're just going to stay like this, pathetic and depressed?"

Lights traced the blade's edge as it lifted. Kasumi felt blood drain from her face as she lunged forward, stopped by her Genma's arms.

"Obaa-sama!"

"Have you ever considered that she would not want to see you like this? Your world has stopped turning because hers has paused. You have thrown away your life because you think that you have done so hers. Do you know what you've been doing? You've unconsciously given up on her. You're acting as if she's _dead._"

Ranma visibly stiffened at her words.

"Have you got nothing to say for yourself?"

The sword was now poised high above his head in an almost-parody of _seppuku's _mercy strike; it was a cruel joke of fate that Nodoka's once promised punishment would seem to be fulfilled after all. Yet even with this, Ranma remained silent, his face hidden by his hair, his hands tightly clutching his weapon.

"Nothing at all?" Her arm grew taut. "Then you are not worthy of her, my son – the coward."

The sword fell and Kasumi's own terror mixed with Nabiki scream.

"_OBAA-SAMA!"_

A loud _clang _echoed throughout the dojo and Kasumi collapsed from her half-raised position. A gust of wind blew the storm through the ruined wall, and it mingled with something that was powerfully familiar and frighteningly heady.

There was a shifting, a sudden sense of fullness.

She saw his hands slide against the staff that held the sword at bay, and ever so slowly, Saotome Ranma raised his head and stared at the face of his adversary.

"I ain't no coward."

In a sharp half-turn he deflected the blade, and the boy stood to his full height, his eyes alight with determined defiance.

A knowing smile touched his mother's lips.

"Prove it."

Quickly taking stance, Ranma launched himself towards her, the staff spinning wickedly as he moved to strike. Nodoka danced in evasive circles as the boy's feet slid against the floor to deliver a barely-avoided high sweep; the sword fell and he leapt out of the way, maneuvering above and landing soundlessly behind her that she slashed on instinct and placed a good distance between them.

Kasumi gasped. The lightness of his gait, the fluidity of his movements – it was as if she was seeing it all for the first time.

And suddenly, she knew.

"He's back," she whispered. _"Ranma's back!"_

Ranma deftly brandished the weapon and crouched on ready. Jet-black hair moved across blue-gray eyes, and in the strong line of his jaw, in the tautness of his stance, Kasumi saw the spirit that she had almost thought lost. She unconsciously reached for him, as a mother would a long-lost child, and in the light of his strength surged hope that everything would finally be all right.

Maybe this was what made Akane trust him with her life; for all the tragedies that both had undergone, Ranma's spirit always shone through. Even in his recent disregard for his own well-being, it had always been there: a dose of daring, of pride, of tenacity, all of which fought unrelenting against the tides of despair. It was what brought him tonight to face his mother; it was what Nodoka had been trying to pull from its hiding place, and it was what now overwhelmed them all – shinning, visibly shinning from his eyes, crashing against them in strong yet gentle waves – the spirit of a boy so clumsy at emotions, intertwined with the spirit of a man tempered by life's battles.

"High time he got back to his senses," Nabiki grinned.

And high time it was – if Akane were awake she would have probably hit her fiancé for being too harsh on himself.

The battle went on. Nodoka was not content with her son's answer to her challenge; she wanted a win, and it she would not allow it to be an easy one. Calmness returned to her features and once more she moved surely. Form after form she attacked and countered, the sword moving in graceful arcs yet never at all making contact: Ranma – _Ranma! _- had truly returned to his own, and he rivaled his mother's fluidity and dexterity.

Kasumi watched the display before her in awe and anxiousness. She wanted more than anything for the battle to stop, for it seemed to her that it had already served its purpose, but she couldn't help but marvel at the two. She had seen Genma and Ranma spar every day, and those brute exchanges were a stark contrast to the dance of mother and son. Still, in all its unbelievable exactness, Kasumi could not kill the nagging sensation that Obaa-sama was always a split-second off. She was dexterous, but out of time.

Ranma, who had probably ignored it early on, now used it to his advantage. He fell into her movements, followed her patterns, used her circles to make his own and made them a full-step faster. Soon he was landing obviously held-back blows, for in all his focus and determination, he was still not one to hurt a woman.

Such restraint provoked Nodoka, from whom Ranma had inherited his pride. She knew that he was not giving it all he had, and for the first time that evening, her petal-shaped lips tightened to a bow. Her attacks became sharper, quicker, and yet in all her efforts she could not reach him.

"Playing me for a weakling, I see."

The faint smirk on the boy's lips was something that Kasumi had missed.

"I don't like fighting girls."

"Is that so?" Nodoka's eyes narrowed. "Too bad your mother isn't so helpless!"

She leapt backwards and slashed the air.

"_TEN NO RYUU!"_

The wind that moved through the gaping hole increased the effect of the attack two-fold; the pressure of it literally hewed through the dojo floor in maddening speed that there was little time for anything else. Kasumi caught the shock in Ranma's eyes before the blast slammed against him.

"NO!"

The pressure caused a dull howling. When after a few moments sound and smoke dissipated, Kasumi bit her lips to stifle herself when she'd see the boy's unmoving figure sprawled on the splintered wood.

But there was none.

Nodoka hissed. "Where – "

"Okufuro."

The woman turned just in time to evade her son's blow. Nodoka spun away and Kasumi was surprised to see panic on her face. She shot upward and in one motion, delivered the Dragon of Heaven.

The blast raced towards Ranma who stood his ground, crouching low and steady. He lifted his free hand, and suddenly the wind altered; it felt warmer, thicker, and it seemed to pulsate in time to the boy's life force.

"I'm sorry, Okufuro, but this stops now."

Kasumi knew the technique; it was the same technique that he himself harnessed to counter Ryouga's sinister form, and it reassured her beyond any shadow of a doubt that _he _was back, for it was fueled by the strength of his own resolve.

Electric blue light surged from his palm as he raised his voice above the thunderous howling.

"_MOKO TAKABISHA!"_

The flare of energy shot right through the _Ten no Ryuu, _breaking the attack and blasting towards its source. Nodoka held the sword before her in a final attempt of defense before the light crashed into her, violently pushing her through the ruined wall and into the night beyond.

There was a great flash before it once again grew dark. The air almost smelled of electricity, and a warm sort of afterglow settled in the dojo.

Kasumi heard her heartbeat in her ears as she felt a number of emotions course through her. Staring at the battle's aftermath, she whispered to the silence.

"Is… is it over?"

There was an eerie pause as the lights faded. A numbness settled over her, and resting her eyes on Ranma, she saw his expression change from focus, to shock, to panic. Breaking stance, the boy unceremoniously dropped his staff and ran outside.

Nabiki pulled Kasumi up, probably sensing her sister's sudden disorientation, while Genma and Soun padded quietly behind them. Nodoka's husband remained silent even as the curse activated at the touch of rain, his stern expression almost comical on a panda's face.

Kasumi found her Obaa-sama on her back, her right hand still on her sword. As her eyes traveled down the blade, she finally understood why the woman's movements in battle seemed constricted.

Nodoka held the sword with its blunt edge facing outward – all the while, she had been fighting with the blade reversed, making it impossible to deliver fatal cuts. Moreover, it was the reason why she had always been a half-step too late. The arc of the sword was inverted, thereby slowing its strikes.

"_A deliberate handicap," _Kasumi thought. _"Still, even if she said she'd fight seriously, she never gave Ranma something he couldn't handle."_

The woman's hair was now loose, and it limply framed her face in a tangled mop of water and mud. She stared calmly, almost contentedly into the night, her breathing deep and steady. A now female Ranma knelt beside her with eyes reflecting uncertainty.

"Okufuro, I'm so – "

"No," Nodoka said, gazing at her and finally smiling. "All along, this was what I wanted you to do."

The redhead violently shook her head. "I still shouldn't have – "

"It was a lesson, and you did well," she sighed in understanding. "You've been lonely without Akane-chan – so lonely that you've forgotten something."

"Something?"

Nodoka nodded. "You forgot yourself."

Ranma bit her lips and turned away.

"You see, you forgot that you still have your life to live. Whether or not she wakes up, that's something that she'd always want you to do. That's why I challenged you; so that I could awaken within you that desire to move on. Oh dearest," she motioned her to look. "Akane-chan's still alive – that's plenty of reason for you to pick yourself up - and as she sleeps, you can see the world for her. Grant her that gift, child. For the moment, live for her. But moreover, live for yourself."

The older woman's hand rested on her cheek, and Ranma closed her eyes as she placed her fingers over it.

"She… Akane would like that, wouldn't she?"

"Yes, dear. She would."

"You think she'd forgive me?"

"Your only sin was forfeiting yourself, and I'm sure that's long forgiven."

"But she ain't that nice. She'd probably kick my ass to Okinawa."

"Well, she might."

"Yeah, she would, that stupid, sexless, friggin' tomboy – "

Her voice broke. Rain and something else illuminated her blue-gray eyes, and suddenly there was no denying the tears that choked her. She clenched her teeth against them before finally relenting, letting them run down her muddied cheeks.

The night muted it all. Kasumi listened to the rough, raw sobbing that cared not for its audience or for manly pride, and realized that since her sister's accident, Ranma had never cried to anyone. She listened intently, letting the rain fall upon her face like a lover's fingers. There was comfort in the evening's coolness and in the sound of her release, and she felt a warm sort of melancholy rise from her chest, forming tears in her eyes that did not quite fall, all at once making her feel the unexplainable pangs of bittersweet happiness.

Genma turned and walked away, his panda feet making wet sounds in the mud. Soun understood that it was best to leave the two alone, and gently laid a hand on Kasumi's shoulder.

"Let's go."

She was unsure whether it was wise to let them soak in the rain like that, but then they needed time, and she resigned herself to preparing them warm baths and tea once they got back to the main house.

Nabiki gently tugged her arm and she followed, stealing one last glance at the mother and child.

Nodoka had pushed herself up and placed her hands on the girl's cheeks. Her lips moved with words kept secret by the rain, and Ranma, shaking with deep sadness and repentance, slowly leaned forward and rested her head on her mother's chest.

* * *

And finally, there was silence.

It was only then that he realized how much he had been living in his own world of perpetual noise. He had continuously endured the voices in his head that screamed of guilt and anger, that after they have been hushed by his will, there was only silence.

There was nothing, yet he did not feel empty. It was alien to him, for he had always known chaos. It was a different kind of silence that was nothing like the gaping hole that ate him up the time when the nightmare started. It was a silence that could be equated with peace.

The room was dim as it had always been. It smelled of stillness and sleep, and the world outside came in hushed pauses, trapping it in a void of four walls where time had seemingly slowed.

He walked up to her as he had always done so since the beginning. Her hair was slightly longer now, and it rested tangled upon her still shoulders. She would probably have it cut when she wakes up, he absently thought, and it made him smile a little.

Looking at her now, he could slowly feel the nightmare he had gone through melt into nothingness. The heavy cloak of anguish and misery slid off his shoulders, and for the first time in years, he felt a lightness he had never known before. There was no denying that still he ached from the wounds that life and he himself had dealt, and yes, he still ached so much for her, and yet the pain has slightly subsided to a bearable throb, much like a pulse that reminded him that he was alive.

He _was_ alive. And so was she.

There was something oddly different about her that night. It seemed like her presence was slowly filtering back to where he was.

He sat on the floor and leaned on her bed, careful not to mat her sheets with his hair that was still damp with warm water, and the blood that oozed from his now bandaged arm wound. The battle with his mother was a wake-up call; no matter how painful his injuries were, he was grateful to her, for she had given him a second lease in life.

He gazed up at his fiancée, watching evening shadows heighten her beauty.

"Akane," he whispered hoarsely. "_Tadaima._"

He felt the truth behind his words. It was as if he had traveled a long and hard road, and had finally seen the light of a lamp that forever burned for him and finally led him home.

Yes, he was home, for he had once again found himself, and found her.

Truth be told, she had never been truly lost. He knew that now. He was the one who strayed. She had remained as she always was, even in silence. It mattered a little less now whether she was awake or asleep. He knew he would live for and with her all the same.

He turned and stared out her window, listening to her even breathing and knowing that somehow, someday, something good was bound to happen.

"Hey tomboy," he said with a small smile. "You had better wake up soon, or else I'll call you uncute for the rest of our lives."

His life, her life – they were so intertwined that it was impossible to see where one ended and where one began.

Basking in the light of the moon and in the warmth of her presence, Saotome Ranma slowly closed his eyes, and slept.

* * *

_The night moved into its darkest hour, before lightening into the shades of early morn. There was the calm silence that ruled after an evening of rain, and the air smelled of dew and fringes of dreams._

_The light sound of bird song echoed into the room; a lilting tune that carried wordless wishes for the coming day. As if it signaled a miracle, the song ended on a gentle note that floated into the ears of someone who had slept throughout this lengthy tale, touching something in her that finally bloomed._

_And like the fluttering of butterfly wings on their first flight, Tendo Akane slowly opened her eyes._

* * *

_To be continued..._


End file.
